


Lullaby

by MagnoliasInBloom



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnoliasInBloom/pseuds/MagnoliasInBloom
Summary: Claire finds herself pregnant and her life changed forever. Who will truly be there for her when she needs it?





	1. Chapter 1

The pregnancy test showed two pink lines. Not even I could have fooled myself into thinking it was only one. There was the second one, insolent and bold. If I squinted my eyes, it looked paler, but not really. The tears came soon after, blurring everything in front of me.  _Oh God, no no no._

 _This is it_ , I thought, my life is over.  _What am I going to do?_  I slid down the bathroom wall until I was sitting on the floor, sniffling and crying. I was almost eighteen, about to start nursing school. I had it all planned out. My sobs threatened to overcome me, so I pressed my hand over my mouth hard. They turned into a stifled choking, a sound more like a wounded animal than a human might make. Everything else was too quiet around me, it was so late. If anyone had heard me, they would think I was crazy. And they would probably be right.

Waiting for that stupid test to tell me whether I was pregnant or not had been the longest, hardest two minutes of my life. I spent those two minutes reading the instructions on the box over and over, making sure that I would not misinterpret what I saw on the test. I’d thought it was bad enough going to a drugstore, way out to the far end of Glasgow where no one knew me, just to buy a pregnancy test, but I’d had no idea this was how it would turn out. I’d paced outside Boots in the freezing parking lot, getting up the courage to go inside up to the counter. And then that second line had appeared in the little window, next to the other pink stripe. In that moment, I felt something infinitesimal shift inside me, bending but not breaking. Then my heart started racing, my heart pounded, and the crying began.

A thousand different thoughts swirled inside my mind, each fighting for my attention, but there was no room for anything except my phone. I had to leave the bathroom to find it. I gripped the plastic indicator that had just turned my life upside down, tiptoeing out of the bathroom, even though I knew my parents slept like the dead.

I didn’t know what I was going to tell him, or how. I was afraid of what he might say. Bloody hell, I hated talking on the phone. But it was three in the morning, and there was no one else to talk to. I reached for the mobile like it was a snake, ready to bite me. I decided to hide in my tiny closet, locking the bedroom door behind me for good measure. I sat on the floor, not even bothering to turn on the light. The pregnancy test lay next to me. I called him.

It rang once, twice, three times… a fog tried to creep into my mind, a grey cloud riddled with anxiety as the mobile continued to ring and there was no answer. I prayed it wouldn’t go to voicemail. Nothing made me feel stupider than leaving a message. Normally I wouldn’t have, but this was urgent. I had to talk to him now; I needed to hear the only voice capable of rebuilding my world. Six, seven…

“Claire?”

“This isn’t happening, please tell me it’s not true.” The sound of his voice unraveled me completely. I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. I started crying in earnest now, and even though I knew I was scaring him I couldn’t help it. I tried to find the right words to start with, but my mind went blank. He probably thought somebody died. I wanted to die.

“Calm down, what’s wrong?” His worried tone was soothing.

“Frank, it’s just that—that—I took a test, and it’s positive. It’s positive, I’m pregnant.”

“What? You’re pregnant?” He sounded confused, and I didn’t blame him.

“I took a home pregnancy test and there’s two pink lines. The box says it means I’m pregnant, but sometimes these things can be wrong. Should I take another one? Do I go to the doctor? What do I do?” I started to shake uncontrollably, the phone slipping from my sweaty hands. Cold shivers ran down my back, and I wasn’t sure whether it was shock or actual cold.

“Wait, wait, calm down.” Frank inhaled slowly and exhaled. God, I didn’t need him to break down, too. I could barely deal with my semi-controlled hysteria; I couldn’t handle his as well. “Everything’s going to be fine, don’t worry. Take it easy, Claire. Tell me.” His voice only shook slightly; that was good, very good.

“They’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me!”  _They_  being my parents, of course. “Do you think they’ll kick me out? I have nowhere to go! I don’t have money of my own yet, Frank, I won’t be able to go to nursing school. How am I going to get a job? They’ll never hire a pregnant teenager!” All these thoughts stalked me, waiting for me to acknowledge them in my panic. I banged my head softly against my knees, fresh tears coursing down my face.

“Claire, it’s alright. Don’t cry.” I wondered how he could manage to be that calm. Maybe he was in a better state of denial than I was. “You’re not alone—I’m here with you. Listen to me, yes?”

Frank hadn’t hung up on me. He was still talking to me. This was good. A measure of relief flooded through me, and I thought I could breathe a little better. “You’re not mad?” I hated to ask, but I had to know. Becoming a father at eighteen was not ideal, either.

“No, I’m not mad. Actually, I think I’m kind of happy.” Frank laughed a little then, but quickly remembered that I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Is that what you thought?”

“Of course I did! I thought a million things!” I hissed. “What am I—what are we going to do? I’m all for a woman’s right to choose, you know that, but… just so you know, an abortion is not the choice for me.” There, I’d said it.

“I know, we’re not discussing that. What do you think we should do?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. When do I tell my parents? How do I tell my parents?” I started crying in those annoying, choked little whimpers. “What if they throw me out?”

“They won’t throw you out, Claire. They love you, for God’s sake.”

“It’s a possibility I have to consider. Where would I live?” Where would we live, I corrected myself mentally. There were two of us now. I tried to wipe the tears away, but my pajama sleeve was already soaked.

“You could always live with me,” Frank suggested. He was lodged in university housing, and I had no idea how a baby would fit in the tiny apartment. “I can get a job as a research assistant to make ends meet. You could also find work, until the baby’s born.”

“Of course. I mean, we’re in this together, right?” The sense of relief at Frank’s response had left me feeling weak and hollow. I didn’t mind the hollowness, as long as it came with a brief reprieve for my fears.

“We are. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of things. I think your parents will be over the moon about a grandchild. You’ll see.” Frank yawned. “Try and get some sleep. The both of you.”

“Okay,” I laughed uneasily. “I’ll try. Love you.”

“Sleep. Bye.”

I held the mobile tightly in one hand, so hard I thought it might crack. With the other, I searched blindly for the pregnancy test. It was going to be a long wait until morning. Things felt only half-resolved. We hadn’t made any hard and fast decisions. That bothered me, lying like a heavy coat over my shoulders. The weight of a new burden.

But there was still time to talk. Nine months of time, to be precise. I have no idea how I was able to fall asleep that night. I wrapped the test in a wad of tissues and hid it in my nightstand drawer. I curled up on my bed and let my misery have me. I cried for me, for the baby, for my family, for everything that was about to change. I tried to distract my mind, to keep from thinking about the fact that there were two of us lying in the bed now. Exhausted from all the crying, I finally fell asleep. I would never be the same Claire that slept in this bed again.

One last thought crept in as I drifted away:  _How am I going to tell Jamie?_


	2. Chapter 2

I had met Frank as a Year 11. He was a Year 13, about to graduate. His parents were very well-to-do, Frank himself seemed so polished and refined. We bonded over the fact that we were both Brits living abroad—my parents had moved us to Glasgow when I was 10.

My mother was interested in art, and became acquainted with a woman called Ellen Fraser, a local artist. The Frasers had taken us in figuratively when we’d arrived, relocated due to my father’s job. Brian and Ellen Fraser made fast friends with Henry and Julia Beauchamp. I cast my lot with Jamie, their youngest son, and sometimes interacted with Jenny, their eldest. As an only child, I envied their relationship so much.

We’d become close, Jamie and I, with our mutual love of science. We spent hours digging around Lallybroch, the Frasers’ estate near Stirling. It was only about a 40 minute drive from Glasgow, and I loved spending time in the country. Our parents invited each other to dinner quite frequently. Jamie was almost a year older than I was, in Frank’s class. That’s how I came to know him.

After Frank and I became an item, Jamie faded a bit into the background. He was an imposing bloke—six feet tall, broad in the shoulder, with a head of flaming curls in a perpetual messy state. But I only had eyes for Frank. He was interested in history, which was why he talked to Jamie in the first place; Jamie’s family roots stretched all the way back to Celts and Picts.

Time passed and Frank began his history studies at the University of Glasgow. So did Jamie, opting for a career in medicine. My interests in that respect were more aligned with Jamie’s; I began considering nursing school, and then possibly medical school like him.

Frank and I continued to see each other officially, our make-out sessions escalating until I agreed to sleep with him. He was my first. A lot of firsts happened with Frank. But that was one of the most important. He was a tender and careful lover. I knew I wasn’t taking his virginity, although I had given him mine. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. We were in love—he whispered so in my ear as we lay together.

We had used protection. It was obviously not a hundred percent effective.  Now there was a baby on the way. I woke up the next morning after talking to Frank in a surreal state of mind. I peeked into my nightstand drawer—no, there it was, the pregnancy test in its nest of tissues. This was happening.

I decided to take a walk, frigid December temperatures and misty drizzle notwithstanding. The streets were not overly populated, being that strange time between Christmas and New Year’s. Even through the cold, I felt clammy and sweaty. I calculated that I was a month along, and morning sickness was near at hand. I was scared that throwing up at home would give me away, so I stopped at a coffee shop to use their toilet. I bought a bottle of water and used it to wash away the taste of sick in my mouth. The scent of a random woman’s perfume had me rushing back to the bathroom stall. There was no way to control the nausea. I headed back outside, where the chilly air helped to clear my head.

I stopped near the Botanic Gardens. Sitting on a bench, I hugged myself inside my black parka, and remembered how my parents had brought me here when I was younger. Mum and Dad would follow me around patiently as I read all the plaques in sight, loving the scent of flowers and green growing things. Science had become an interest in botany and medicine. Jamie had come with us often.

Shit—Jamie. I would have to tell him soon. I didn’t know if he’d be happy for me, or disappointed. The view of the Botanic Gardens shifted for me, and I saw myself standing under the glass dome, cradling a tiny infant in my arms. It made me smile. I hoped I could recall that image whenever I needed it.

I began the walk back home. I passed a bakery on the way. The smell of buttery croissants assailed me, and my stomach rumbled in response. I winced, waiting for the nausea to hit me. It took me a moment to realize that I was merely hungry this time. I smiled, and stepped inside the bakery. 


	3. Chapter 3

I needed a friend.

I hadn’t told anyone except Frank that I was pregnant. He would be busy preparing for the start of term in January, and with the added situation of the pregnancy, time was catching up to us. I had texted him about booking a doctor’s appointment for myself, to make sure everything was alright with my health and that of the baby. I could work around his class schedule so he could come with me to the doctor’s. I hadn’t heard back yet.

I tossed and turned another night, contemplating who I could tell first—even before my parents. Mary and Louise from school? My friends would undoubtedly be on my side, supportive and caring. And of course Jamie, whom I had known even longer than the girls. I hadn’t seen Jamie since before that fateful day I took the test. His family had spent Christmas with the MacKenzies in Edinburgh, but he should be back at Lallbybroch.

Our friendship was so easy, so comfortable; we went naturally at each other’s side, like breathing. He was my safe harbor; the only one I felt could put the earth back beneath my feet. I was afraid he would be disappointed in me, even more so than my parents’ opinion. I didn’t want to see anything in his eyes that told me I had let him down.

Jamie and Frank’s relationship had cooled off even more in the past year, although they’d never been especially close. Since Frank and I had started going out, Jamie had been distant with him, whenever the three of us were together. He didn’t understand my infatuation with Frank, but refrained from making an outright comment about it. I could only tell from the way his blue eyes tightened at the corners and the set of his mouth. But it was enough so that I was aware of his vague disapproval. And now I was pregnant.

I finally gave up on sleep around five. I grabbed my mobile, and thought about Jamie. It was early, but he was probably awake. His whole family were early risers; probably because of growing up on the Lallybroch farm. I was a night owl myself. Even if he was pitching hay for the shaggy coos to help his father out or running through medical textbooks, he’d still have his mobile on him.

The line beeped twice before he picked up. Jamie’s voice was alert, considering the hour I had chosen to call—I’d been right about his early bird tendencies.

“Hey, Sassenach! How are ye?” Jamie’s nickname for me was endearing; he could also call Frank a  _sassenach_ , but not in the same tone.

“Hey yourself. Farm-handing or studying?” I ran my hands quickly through the riot of curls on my head, tucking loose strands behind my ear. I curled my feet beneath me, settling in for the conversation.  

“Aye. It looks like one of the mares is about to foal verra soon.” I could hear sheep bleating in the background. “How come ye’re up so early? Or have ye not actually been to bed yet?”

“You got me. I’ve gotten my days and nights a bit reversed. I’m sorry to interrupt, though—I could call back later.”  _And postpone telling you for as long as I can._

“No, not at all. I was just about to head in for breakfast. Yes, at this ungodly hour,” Jamie chuckled, anticipating my next comment.

“Jamie, I’m pregnant.”

“Ye’re what?” His voice went up almost a full octave—not an easy feat.

“Pregnant. As in, I’ll be up to my neck in nappies and bottles and crying in about nine months’ time.” I studied my fingernails, unable to lift my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

A pause. Then I heard him sigh into the phone. “Och. Alright. How are ye really, Sassenach?”

One of those inexplicable mood swings hit me and another barrage of tears I had been holding back ever since the stupid test went positive broke through my composure. Jamie wasn’t berating me, he was worried about me.

“I don’t know,” I managed to choke out. “Okay, I guess. Dealing.” I couldn’t stop crying now that a huge weight had been lifted off my chest.

“Shhh, Claire. It’s alright. God, I… I wish I could be there with ye right now. I ken… och, I suppose I don’t need to ask who the father is. Frank?”

“Yes, Frank’s the father.”

“Does he ken yet?”

“Yes, he  _kens_ , James Fraser. Believe it or not, he’s standing by me. We’re doing this together.” I breathed hard. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. Sorry.”

“Why are ye apologizing? Ye’re under an immense amount of pressure, something I dinna even understand. No, I’m the one who’s sorry Sassenach, for implying—” He cut himself off, exhaling.

“Don’t worry about it.” I sniffled and laughed weakly. “Can’t say I blame you. You’ve never really liked Frank.”

“Sassenach, he’s yer choice. Whatever my opinions are, it doesna signify. What matters to me is you. Can I do anything for ye, do yer parents ken, too?

“I have  _not_  gotten around to telling Mum and Dad quite yet, thank you very much. I’m waiting for the right moment. Preferably one where I can be sure they won’t suffer heart attacks.”

I lay back on the bed, nestling the mobile closer to my ear. Jamie’s voice, soothing and gentle, was telling me not to be afraid, that I was one of the bravest people he knew. I snorted at that. He went on, telling me that he was there for me, and always would be. He offered everything he could think of—from money to his own presence when I told my parents. I declined, tired of telling him everything was fine. Just plain tired…

“Sassenach? Claire?” Jamie’s voice brought me back from the brink of sleep. My eyes refocused, the grey light of dawn peeking through the curtains. I caught a glimpse of my amber eyes on the vanity mirror opposite me. I looked haggard and careworn.

“Sorry,” I yawned. “I think it’s bedtime for me. Is it six already?”

“Aye, ‘tis late. For ye, anyway.” Jamie laughed softly. “Go, get some sleep. Ye need it, both of ye now.”

My heart skipped erratically, hearing that last part. The blush he was fond of triggering for his own amusement stained my cheeks. I smiled.

“Sure. Talk to you soon. And Jamie?”

“Aye?”

“Thanks.”


	4. Chapter 4

Another week passed and I wasn’t any closer to telling my parents about my pregnancy. I felt lucky I was still on holiday for winter term. All I did was sleep, eat when the nausea wasn’t horrible, and think about Frank. I was still putting off the doctor. But Mum noticed how exhausted I was all the time.

“Are you still sleeping, love?” She peeked into my room, glancing at the mess of clothes on the floor.

“Um, yeah. I think I might be coming down with something.” I sniffled for good effect, but my cheeks burned red. Jamie had always said I had a glass face, and everything I felt or thought was plain and clear.

Mealtimes were hellish. I seemed to have developed an aversion to every single food in the house, particularly salad and eggs. I felt dizzy and nauseated often; I worried the intensity of my symptoms were too obvious, and Mum and Dad would put two and two together.

Frank and I had texted a few times in between. There were no further plans to cement yet, particularly if I still hadn’t let my parents know about the situation. Finally, Frank called to tell me he had booked me a doctor’s appointment, through NHS.

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “So, when are we going? Classes start back up on Monday.”

“Well, the thing is I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. Term’s back on, I suspect I’ll be rather busy. I’ll text you the information. But call me and let me know how it goes.”

“Frank—”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, love. But you know how it is.”

“You made the appointment; I would have thought you had chosen a time on your schedule that—”

“They’ll give you an ultrasound. Give me a copy of that, will you?”

I let out a breath sharply through my nose. He cared, I told myself. He’s just busy. I would be too, if I were at uni. “Well, when can I see you after that?”

“Soon, Claire, I promise. You alright?”

“I suppose. So—”

“Talk to you later then. I’ll text. Bye.”

I bit my lip as I held my mobile. On a whim, I texted Jamie.

_hey, when are you back at uni?_

_wk after you are. how’s things ssnch?_

_puking’s no fun. feel like 10 kinds of shit_

_sry to hear that. it’ll pass. I assume you haven’t told your parents yet?_

_not yet_

_ssnch you can’t put it off much longer_

He was absolutely right of course. Jamie usually was. I had analyzed every possible solution, every possible route I could take. What worried me most was my parents’ response, what they might say or do if they were angry. Of course they would be angry—it wasn’t a strong enough word. There was a tiny part of me that hoped they would be understanding. I played every possible scenario in my head.

I tried to delude myself in thinking that perhaps the test had given a false positive. It happened all the time. The only way to be sure was a blood test and a visit to the obstetrician. What if I could call Frank and tell him that it had been a false alarm? Would things go back to the way they were? It occurred to me that I could also lose this baby. Miscarriages happened all the time. The thought made me uneasy; I didn’t wish for that of course, in case I was actually pregnant. But it could all blow over after the doctor’s appointment. When I lay awake at night, I thought about two things. One, that I didn’t know what to pray for. No baby, healthy baby, happy ending? I rolled over on my side.

The second thing was: Classes at uni didn’t start until week after next. Frank had lied.

~~~

The information Frank had given me took me once again to the other side of Glasgow. I guess he thought as I did, to visit a clinic where no one would know me. I’d been to a gyno before, but this was brand new territory. I sat nervously  in the chair, wishing I could just leave. After jotting down my medical history, the doctor—French sounding, Dr. Gascogne—set me at ease though, and I could only imagine how many girls she saw in my same situation. I didn’t ask, but she may have sensed it, when she asked me if I had any concerns. I told her about Frank and the home pregnancy test.

She pulled out a calendar, and we figured out some dates. It didn’t look good for me, judging by her expression. Then she told me to get on the exam table, and sat next to me facing an ultrasound machine. She smeared cold gel on my stomach, apologizing when I winced.

The screen came on, blurry with electronic snow. Dr. Gascogne moved the mouse-like indicator, placing it directly below my belly button. I squinted, trying to make something out of the indistinct shadows. Then she paused, and froze the screen. She pointed her finger at it, and all of a sudden I saw it. The baby.

It was tiny, no more than ten centimeters across, or so the doctor said. But there it was, unmistakable. It was just like the movies, with the slightly amorphous head, the tiny arms and legs, and the cord leading into its belly. I forgot all about my discomfort, and everything else in the room. A few tears ran down my face, and I didn’t even bother wiping them away. I covered my mouth, and a few hiccupping sobs escaped. But I smiled. The doctor flipped a switch on the machine, and a small but steady pounding rhythm filled the room. Its heartbeat, strong and real, like my own. There was life inside me; I started crying in earnest.

Dr. Gascogne simply handed me tissues until I could get up and put myself to rights. I used the toilet; then I sat on the closed lid for as long as ten minutes, staring at the bog roll in front of me like a crazy person. My brain was registering activity but my mind was somewhere else. Until I remembered where I was and finally left the bathroom. Dr. Gascogne prescribed folic acid tablets and gave me a pamphlet with standard care guidelines for pregnancy. She handed me a printout of the ultrasound showing the gently curves of the baby in black and white. I nodded on autopilot and then I found myself on the tube headed home.

My eyes kept brimming over with tears, but the rest of the passengers were too kind to notice or comment.  I wiped my eyes with the heels of my hands like a child. I focused on the whirr of the tracks to better hear my confused thoughts. The test hadn’t lied after all; I even thought I knew what to pray for now. Hearing its tiny heart beating with such determined force had finally made it real for me. And I couldn’t wait to make it real for Frank.


	5. Chapter 5

I stared at my laptop screen. Waterstones was offering me a job. I had applied a few weeks earlier, thinking of saving some money for uni and now, when things were so twisted, they had come through. I really needed this opportunity; I chose to see it as something good for me, and I responded with an acceptance. I’d start on Monday along with school.

Frank hadn’t picked up his mobile when I’d called him the previous night, eager with news about the doctor’s appointment. Closing the laptop, I dialed his number again. It almost went to voicemail before I head his smooth polished voice.

“Hi, Claire.”

“Hey, Frank. I called you yesterday.” I felt as though I were nagging or complaining. I had promised myself never to be that kind of woman.

“How did the doctor’s go? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I heard its heartbeat.”

“Is it a boy? A girl?”

“Frank, it’s much too early to tell. Maybe in a few weeks. Um, which reminds me—when can I see you? I haven’t talked to my parents yet, but—”

“Well, see, Claire, I haven’t told my parents either. You know, they’re considering selling their London apartment and just traveling for awhile,” he said. “It might come as a shock to them, I mean, I’ve not graduated and you’re so young.”

“My age didn’t seem to bother you before,” I said coldly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, forget I mentioned it. So, can we meet tomorrow?”

“Really? I guess. Oh, by the way, I got a job at the Waterstones on Argyle Street. Remember I told you I’d applied?”

“That’s great, Claire. Congratulations. I’ll text you when I know the time we can meet.”

“Okay. Bye.”

~~~

Frank didn’t text.

He didn’t call or answer his mobile. I pondered this while I swallowed a huge prenatal vitamin, washing it down with orange juice. I was numb with exhaustion, inside and out. I’d started term and my new job at the bookstore, and doing all that while maintaining my pregnancy a secret was taking its toll on me.

I was not a morning person. Waking up at 6 to attend class and then work did not sit well with me or my changing body. I threw up a couple of times in the lavatory at school; I had cravings and nausea in equal measure. The doctor had worked out some dates, and pegged me at about 10 weeks along.

I sat down in the cafeteria with Louise and Mary and broke the news to them. They were sweet and supportive, as I had thought they would be, and excited at the prospect of a baby. I swore them to secrecy; both of them offered babysitting and help juggling classes in the future. As I processed their reactions, I felt a little lighter. Just having them know was enough; I knew I would have their support in whatever lay ahead. Jamie, of course, texted often, offering bits of encouragement. I had plans to tell my parents that week, but first, I needed to talk to Frank.

I trudged through the first school week  back and work. Then, while I took a small break at Waterstones, I suddenly felt faint. Little black spots danced in front of my eyes until they clouded my vision completely. I felt my heart race and then the carpeted floor was rushing towards my face. Thankfully, before I hit the ground Fergus the cashier caught me under the arms. He was whispering in my ear, telling me to breathe slowly, but he sounded very far away. With his arm around me, he half-walked, half-dragged me to a chair. He wanted to call 999, but I wouldn’t let him. I just told him that I needed to eat after skipping breakfast.

I finished my shift—Fergus insisting I trade places with him, so I could at least sit—and then decided to go see Frank afterwards. I took the tube to the University of Glasgow and made my way to his small flat on campus. I dodged all sorts of people milling in the hallway and knocked on his door. There was no sound. I knocked more forcefully, almost pounding the door until Frank himself yanked it open.

“What?” He looked harried and angry, but then his expression changed when he saw it was me. “Oh. Claire.”

I pushed past him, going to sit on the bed. I gestured for Frank to shut the door, which he did, warily watching me under lowered brows. He paced the floor in front of me, the desk lamp throwing his lean shadow  on the walls. Every step he took seemed to rob me of breath. I fiddled with the strap on my purse.

“You didn’t call, Frank. You don’t text. Sorry to barge in like this, but we need to make some decisions, now. I almost fainted at work today,” I said, and waved my hand when he stopped his pacing to look me over. “I’m fine, but it won’t be long before I start showing. I’m talking to my parents this Sunday.”

“Claire, I just don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I gripped the blue duvet cover on the bed. “I thought you said you were happy about this, that we would work things out. What changed?” I tried to concentrate, tried to keep the frustration out of my voice.

“I was happy, Claire.” He ran his hands through his dark hair, clutching at his head.

“You  _were_  happy? So what, you lied to me?”

“No, I didn’t lie to you. It’s just—I’m not ready for this,” Frank rasped.

“What the bloody  _fuck_ , Frank? You think I am? I’m not even eighteen! This wasn’t exactly in my plans either. It’s not like I’m trying to trap you into anything. Is that what you’re thinking?” I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. I didn’t understand how I couldn’t see this coming before.

“Actually, I don’t think you’re ready either. I wanted to talk to you about that.” Frank gestured wildly with his hands, clearly irritated. He still paced left and right across the room, his strides becoming longer with anger. The fact that he was angry infuriated  _me_.

“You’re not saying anything that makes sense!” I pushed myself off the bed and blocked his path. I stood in front of him unimpressively; he towered a few inches above me.

“I’m saying you’re not ready for this, the responsibility of having a baby,” he sighed, exasperated.

“God, you think I don’t know that?!” I let my breath out in a hiss, as he took my shoulders gently and made me sit back down on the bed. Frank bent his knees, facing me now.

I glanced at my hands. I couldn’t meet his eyes as I blinked back tears, hating the idea of him thinking I was trying to blackmail him with unnecessary drama. I tilted my head back at last, staring at the ceiling. Around us, the desk, the lone bookshelf, the clothes strewn on the floor all stood silent witnesses to my despair.

“Listen,” Frank said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know we talked about this, and I know you told me before, but I still think… look, let’s book an appointment through NHS. We still have time, the cutoff is twelve weeks.” I froze, my eyes searching his face in disbelief.

“Cutoff?” I repeated.

“It’s an outpatient procedure, really. A few hours.” He shrugged.

I stared at him, horrified, shaken out of my stupor. “No. I can’t.”

“Claire, please, be reasonable,” He pleaded.

“No!” I pushed him away, nearly causing him to overbalance. Tears kept falling down my cheeks, as Frank reached out and placed his hands on either side of my face. I shook him off, but he didn’t let go. I locked my hands around his wrists, and he finally let his hands slide away from my face. I stood and walked towards the door. He followed me and I stopped before I opened it.

I turned to look at Frank over my shoulder. I knew he could see the hurt on my face, but he kept his expression carefully blank. He was the first to drop his gaze to the floor, but neither of us yielded on this choice. I reached into my purse, and I pulled out the ultrasound image that I had tucked into the side pocket. I held it out to him.

Frank didn’t take it.

He stared down at it, and still I held it in midair, hand shaking only slightly. I swallowed hard. I withdrew the picture, putting it back into my purse. He didn’t say anything more, and neither did I. I turned away and left his dorm, walking fast down the street towards the tube station.

I was still crying.


	6. Chapter 6

“Jamie, you don’t get it. I get sick just thinking about it.” True to my words, my stomach dropped like I was on an elevator. I nibbled on an apple as I held the mobile tightly, hiding in my closet again. Maybe I should just move in here and hide for the next nine months.

“Sassenach, dinna fash. This is one of the hardest things ye’ll have to do, ever. But once it’s over with—”

“I cannot even begin to think that this will be the hardest part. I seriously doubt that. What about later, you know, giving  _birth_? Taking care of a newborn? I didn’t even play with dolls growing up!” Except my uncle Lamb’s Japanese netsuke dolls, but that was entirely different.

“Claire, ye ken ye can call me anytime. If they want to kick ye out—which I verra much doubt—I’ll pick ye up and ye can stay at Lallybroch. Okay?”

“Okay.” I sniffled. I’d called Jamie as soon as I got home after visiting Frank. He had been furious with him, so much so that I hoped Frank was lucky enough not to run into Jamie on campus. Chances were slim, but still. Jamie didn’t need to start a fight on my behalf, and certainly not one that would get him into a world of trouble. I had called him every night since then, and he offered me nothing but reassurance.

Frank’s sudden and complete lack of involvement filled me with dread whenever I thought of him—which was almost every minute of every day. We hadn’t talked at all since that night when he tried to convince me to get rid of the baby; remembering was enough to make me pulse with resentment, so I avoided the memory as much as I could.

He had been impossible to reach. His mobile was either shut off and went to voice mail immediately, or it rang endlessly and he did not pick up. He was avoiding me too, I knew. I considered calling from a different number, but the message was clear—he did not want to speak to me, he wanted nothing to do with me. With us.

And now I was on the verge of confessing to Mum and Dad to what extent I had betrayed their trust and their faith in my responsibility.

I really couldn’t put it off anymore. Mrs. Fitz, the manager at Waterstones, and my coworker Laoghaire had mentioned that I looked thinner. That was courtesy of the morning sickness. But I was bound to start swelling up any minute. The scale didn’t lie—I had dropped half a stone, but that couldn’t be healthy for the baby. It was too much to handle, and things were bound to start slipping through the cracks of my precarious sanity.

That Sunday night, all I could think about was how glad I was that I had work the next day, which served as a great distraction. No matter what, I had someplace to go tomorrow. When I hung up with Jamie, he had made promises to come see me at my parents’ soon and that everything would be alright. I tossed the apple core in the bin and left the closet. I looked around my bedroom: the bookcase, the shelves, my laptop, my clothes thrown about… pieces of my life that would hurt to leave behind. I knew my parents loved me, but I couldn’t be sure of their reaction.

Since I had seen the baby on the monitor, and especially since the horrible discussion with Frank, I had been hoping for the best, while preparing for the worst. It seemed like the most sensible plan in order to keep from losing my mind. I wouldn’t allow myself to hope for anything, though; I knew that to see those hopes extinguished so utterly and completely would only hurt worse in the end.

I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from under my mattress. I had written out everything I wanted to say to my parents. I didn’t trust my pregnancy brain to remember all the important points, particularly since I had found my house keys in the vegetable drawer that week.

We finished dinner that night, and while Mum was clearing the table I pulled the paper from my jeans pocket. “Mum? Dad?” My voice shook. “Could I talk to you? It’s important.”

Mum came back wiping her hands on a tea towel. She glanced at Dad, who shrugged. They sat next to each other at the table. I grasped the paper tightly in my hand. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak, I began crying. I wanted to run, to be anywhere else but then and there about to dive off a cliff again. My parents looked confused by my barely controlled hysterics. They also looked very concerned, and Dad reached out to take my hand.

“Sweetheart, we’re listening. We’re here for you. What is it, lovey?”

I hiccupped, suppressing my sobs. “There’s something I need to tell you. Please, don’t say anything until I’m done, okay?” I took a deep breath and began in an unsteady voice. “I want to say this, and I don’t know how to begin because I’m afraid you’ll be furious. I don’t want to make you feel terrible, or angry, but I think you won’t be able to help it, and I’ll understand. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

“I’m pregnant.”

They froze. I could see my mum’s eyes widen and my father’s hand grip hers like a vise. Both swallowed hard, but said nothing, waiting for me to continue like I had asked. “I know you’ll think I’ve been incredibly stupid and irresponsible, and maybe I am, but I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I have several solutions. But I need to know if I can also count on you.”

A tear slipped down Mum’s face, and another to match down mine, just to see her try so hard not to cry. Dad slipped his arm around her. There was no yelling, no recriminations, no arguing. Something loosened inside me, and I kept going.

“Frank’s the father. He says he’ll support me, that he’ll help out. He said that I could live with him at the university. His parents don’t know yet, I think. But they’re traveling, so I don’t—” My voice caught. “If… if it doesn’t work out, I have a place to stay, with a friend, if you don’t want me to live here. I have a job now, and some money saved.”

My mum raised a hand towards me, but Dad wouldn’t let her interrupt. He nodded at me to continue, and I rushed through the rest of my note. “If you decide to help me, I promise, I will stay in school. I will go on to study nursing, like I’ve planned. I will help with all the expenses. I will pay you back every single pence you spend on me or give me.” I broke down, and amidst tears I finished with, “I will even pay rent, if you want. I can’t express how sorry I am to put you in this position. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry to disappoint you, and—”

Mum pushed back her chair with a scrape and came round the table. She pulled me into a tight hug, cutting off my rambling. I cried and cried into her shoulder, like I was five again. Dad embraced us both, and we sat there for a bit, the three of us connected.

After awhile, they sat down again, and Mum took my hand. “So Claire. You, and Frank. What’s going on?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. He’s been hard to reach lately, so I… I’m not sure. I’m having the baby, that’s for sure.” They shared another glance, but said nothing. “Frank, he couldn’t be here.”

“How far along are you?” Mum asked.

“Ten, twelve weeks,” I said. “I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you.”

“We understand,” said Dad. “We love you, Claire. This doesn’t change that.”

“Right, lovey. You’ll stay here, with us, of course. We’ll help you, with anything and everything you might need.” Mum squeezed my hand.

I breathed, joy filling the hole in my chest. A few more tears escaped and I brushed them away. I smiled, honestly, for the first time in months. Jamie had been right, as usual. My parents weren’t kicking me out, or screaming mad. They were loving, and supportive; I couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Oh, here!” I pulled the ultrasound image from my pocket, where it had nestled next to the paper all day. “I went to the doctor’s. This is the baby.”

They crowded around the picture, my mum crying in earnest now. “Look, Henry! It’s so small… we’ll be grandparents!”

In a few minutes, I couldn’t keep from yawning, I was so exhausted and more so after all the emotions of the day. My parents sent me upstairs; Dad pressed a kiss on my temple and Mum whispered I love you. My heart felt lighter than before. I turned out the light, stretched out on my bed in fuzzy pajamas. The elastic waistband was a little snug. I reflected upon everything that had happened. My parents now knew I was pregnant, and were incredibly caring and understanding—thrilled to be grandparents. But Frank…

My heart was lighter, but heavier.


	7. Chapter 7

The doorbell rang while I was upstairs in my room. I was trying to focus on reading for a class; it had been a very uneventful Saturday. A week after I’d told my parents I was pregnant. Not much had happened. Things were pretty quiet at home. I thought Mum was watching the telly downstairs on the couch; but I didn’t hear her answering the door.

“Mum, will you get that?” I called down. Silence.

“Fine.” I threw the book on the bed, marking my place with a pencil. I managed not to trip on the stairs as the doorbell rang again. There was no one on the couch, no one at home then, as far as I could tell. I reached the door and flung it open.

“Jamie!” He stood in front of me like a mirage; I couldn’t believe he was actually here. I threw my arms around his neck and held him tight. He leaned in from his six-foot-four height and hugged me too. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying!” I felt my feet being lifted off the floor for a second before he set me down gently and held me at arm’s length.

“I decided to take the afternoon off. Never mind that, how are ye, Sassenach?” Jamie scrutinized my face, triggering a blush. His blue eyes were fraught with concern.

“I survived. Everyone knows, and I’m still here.” I gave him a lopsided smile.

“I told ye. Wish ye would have let me be here for support.” He returned my smile with a crooked one of his own, and glanced behind me through the open front door. “Is yer family home?”

“Dad’s at work, and Mum’s apparently out.” I was immediately proved wrong when Mum snuck up behind me and made me jump about a foot. “Jesus H., Mum!”

“Jamie! Lovely to see you, dear! Why don’t you take Claire out somewhere? She’s been holding herself hostage all week. Some air will do her good.”

“Great idea. Let’s go, Sassenach.” It occurred to me that Mum must have known Jamie was coming. He reached out and took my hand in his, leading me down the steps. I rolled my eyes at Mum but followed willingly enough. I saw he’d borrowed his father’s silver Peugeot.

“Where do ye want to go?” Jamie reached over and helped me buckle the seatbelt as I fumbled with the clasp. His hands were warm for the chilly February day. I smiled in thanks.

“I don’t know. Coffee, maybe?”

“Ye shouldna drink coffee in yer condition.” Jamie looked sideways at me and winked—his version of it anyway. He looked like a big red blinking owl; he never managed to close just the one eye. I sighed.

“You’re the doctor. Or will be, at any rate.” He turned the Peugeot around and headed downtown. I knew we would end up at my favorite coffee shop, where I often hung out with Louise and Mary.

As we sat at a table, we filled each other in on everything that had happened since the last time we’d talked. Jamie was very busy with medical school, working towards his degree. He mentioned his parents, Brian and Ellen, were dying to see me, and how come I hadn’t been to visit them in awhile.

I switched my order from coffee to tea, to appease him. He knew that I knew too much caffeine while pregnant was not good. He told me that to compensate, I could have as many biscuits as I wanted.

Jamie drained his own cup, and set it down with a clink of crockery. “So… have ye heard from him?”

I felt my face drain of color. “Not very lately.” I’d texted to tell him that my parents knew. He’d replied with okay. I’d given up asking him to call me, to tell me what was next. My parents had briefly asked about him, about whether he wanted to be part of this. I couldn’t answer. I’d told Jamie all of this.

“After what happened on Sunday,” I admitted to Jamie, “I didn’t even stop to wonder why Frank wasn’t sitting there next to me.”

Jamie looked down and pursed his lips. He touched my hand softly. I peered into his face, trying to read his expression. His blue eyes finally glanced my way, and he shrugged. “I still dinna understand,” he said quietly. “How he couldna have been there.” Jamie had recognized the situation better than I had; something so simple as keeping your word, and actually being there when you say you will.

I slid my hand out of his grasp, tears welling up. I couldn’t figure out if I was angry, or hurt, or just hormonal. My emotions were all over the place lately.

Jamie quickly took my hand again, apologizing. “I’m sorry, Sassenach. It’s just that… ye’re so amazing, it’s hard for me to see why he isn’t thrilled about this life growing inside ye. It’s his too, and he is no aware of how valuable that is.” The fact that he would not even say Frank’s name did not escape me. And neither did the look in Jamie’s eyes.

Suddenly, it brought back a different memory. A few years ago, give or take, before Frank. We had gone to the cinema, just him and me, when all our other friends hadn’t been able to make it. Nothing out of the ordinary, laughing, joking, just friends. After the film, he escorted me home on the tube. We had lapsed into comfortable silence. Jamie walked me up to my front door, and we just stood there, saying good night. As I reached for the door, I looked back at him, and for a fleeting second, the oddest expression filled his eyes. I couldn’t quite place it, but it had made my heart stutter. In that same second, it was gone.

“I won’t lie, Sassenach. I almost went looking for him, to ask him in person… ye ken. But I would have beaten the shite out of him, and I thought that might upset ye.”

I shook my head. Jamie was there, in front of me, helping me, being my friend. Of course he loved me, like I loved him, almost like a brother.

“Thank you for looking out for me, Jamie. You don’t know how much this means to me.” I hesitated, and smiled at him.

“Always, Claire. Always.”

The subject of Frank didn’t come up for the rest of the evening.


	8. Chapter 8

When Jamie dropped me off at home later, he came in to chat with my parents for a bit. They had always loved Jamie like a son, as my best friend, and I knew he saw them as family too.

Mum practically kidnapped Jamie; we all sat in the living room while my mother talked his ears off. After maybe twenty minutes, I finally stepped in and tried to rescue him. “Mum, I’m sure Jamie has to go now. He has to return his Da’s car,” I stared meaningfully at him while I stood up.

“Oh, that reminds me. My mam would like to see ye tomorrow. How about breakfast? Pick ye up at eight? Okay, ten,” Jamie amended, seeing the look on my face. Besides the sleeping in time, I tended to feel very dizzy early in the mornings. No need for him to see me like that.

I walked him to the door, and kissed his cheek goodbye. I leaned against the door, waiting until he drove away. Mum grabbed me before I could go upstairs and made me eat some dinner. I felt better than I had in weeks. I gave Mum a hug for the part she had played in Jamie’s surprise arrival.

As I crawled into bed, Frank also crept into my thoughts. He hadn’t called that day, nor had I really expected him to. Besides their usual animosity towards each other, Frank was aware of how close I was to Jamie. Frank would want to avoid  _that_  particular confrontation. If I let him, Jamie would beat him to a pulp.

I placed my hands protectively over my stomach, while I mused over the little stranger inside me. I wondered what I’d name him or her. My friends continued to be incredibly supportive, and had helped me feel as though I always had steady ground beneath me; I clung to it, seeking comfort. I wondered about Frank, about whether he would come around or not. I had a job, my studies, and now, I had to help this baby on its way to being born. It was all falling into place, sort of, except for that one important piece.

~ ~ ~

Sunday was the best carefree time I’d had in a long time. Brian had to work, but Jamie and Ellen were there, full of laughter. She had made pancakes especially for me, and even remembered how I liked lots of butter, no syrup, from all those late-night study sessions we used to have in school.

With Jamie sitting beside me, Ellen asked me how I’d been feeling, and compared all the crazy symptoms she’d experienced with mine. It was as though all the loneliness and frustration of the past three months hadn’t existed.

But apparently even 10 AM was not late enough to avoid morning sickness. I excused myself mid-sentence and rushed to the bathroom as a wave of vertigo and nausea assaulted me. Jamie and Ellen were right behind me. She held back my hair as I retched bent over the toilet; Jamie hovered anxiously at the door. Ellen helped me off the floor while I apologized profusely.

“Oh, Ellen, I’m so sorry, really—”

“Don’t worry, Claire, it’s alright. It happens.”

I felt better after I had rinsed my mouth out. Ellen told me how Jamie had made her feel nauseated five months straight. “But trust me, it’s worth it.” She looked fondly at Jamie. “My bairn, all grown up. Smart and handsome and sweet…”

“He is all that,” I agreed, laughing. “The girl who catches Jamie will be very lucky to have him.”

“Thank ye,  _mothers_.” Jamie rolled his eyes at us, while we smiled indulgently at him.

~~~

I was lying on my living room sofa, Jamie in a chair beside me. I had spent all Sunday morning and afternoon at Lallybroch. I had to catch up on my school assignments late Sunday evening. Monday morning found me tired but happy. I worked my shifts at Waterstones, and Jamie went back to uni. He surprised me on Friday afternoon, insisted on carrying my backpack for me.

It was dark out in the February night; Jamie would be driving back to Lallybroch to spend time with his family early the following morning. I felt like I had been going, going, every day that week and hadn’t given myself time to think about Frank. Jamie had briefly commented on Frank’s continued absence. I had received one phone call that afternoon, cut short when he realized I was with Jamie.

Jamie had kept most of his comments to himself, knowing they upset me. I knew that Frank wasn’t responding as he should have, as he’d promised in the beginning. I had a feeling that if he came face to face with Jamie, it would come to fists. I kept making up excuses for Frank—he was studying, he was busy—but the truth was, he was just not there. Jamie had dropped the subject. Now I was completely exhausted and half-asleep.

“When’s yer next doctor’s appointment?”

“Sometime next week, I think. Mum’s offered to come with me.”

“How are ye feeling now?” He held my hand, as though he were sitting next to a sick patient. Though sometimes I was annoyed by his over-protectiveness, I didn’t want to move at all.

“I’m alright. Except for the dizzy spells, which are bloody awful. I’m fine.”

“Ye have to send me a picture of the ultrasound when ye get one.”

“Actually…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to revisit that. “Sure.” I yawned, stretching a bit on the sofa. I nestled more comfortably into the cushions, smiling up at Jamie. He understood like no one else. I felt my eyes half-close. “Good luck on your examinations.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled. He peered into my sleepy face. “Maybe I should get going. You’re pretty out of it.” He made as if to rise from the chair.

“No, wait.” I held on to his hand, forcing him to sit down again. “Not until I’m completely asleep. I’d feel better… if you were here…” My voice trailed off.

“What do you do the rest of the time? When I’m not here, I mean,” he teased.

“Oh no.” I smiled, remembering what he said to me when he spent long periods at Lallybroch away from the city. “You may go, but you never leave me.” I closed my eyes, drifting off. Jamie still held my hand.

But that night, I dreamt again of Frank.


	9. Chapter 9

I lay on the examination chair, waiting for the doctor to perform the ultrasound. I gripped Mum’s hand, nervous. It wasn’t the first time I would see the baby on the screen, but now it would be different; it was bound to be bigger, maybe more recognizable. My mum was excited, happy to see her future grandchild for the first time. We’d switched doctors, to one closer by. It was mildly embarrassing to have a man for an obstetrician, but he soon put me at ease with his easy-going manner and friendly banter.

Dr. Raymond jotted down my medical history, ordered blood tests, and weighed me. I was slightly above average weight for my height—even though I had lost a lot of my appetite since I found out I was pregnant. I stood on the scale in a flimsy paper gown.

“Alright,” he said, “I think you can stand to gain about 15 kilos total, by the end of your pregnancy. I’m feeling generous today.” Dr. Raymond grinned.  15 kilograms? Two stone? I swallowed hard and stepped off the scale, feeling like a whale even though I was barely showing. I had lain back on the examination chair with my legs on the stirrups, fuming. That was when Mum joined me in the room and took my hand, expectant and eager.

Finally, the doctor placed the cursor on my belly. He moved it around for awhile, and there it was. He pointed it out on the screen, amidst the electronic snow. It was bigger, maybe the size of my fist. Mum squeezed my hand, her eyes welling up. Immediately, my mind jumped to Frank. I couldn’t believe he was not the one standing next to me, with me. Something tugged at my heart, acid and painful.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, as Dr. Raymond told me that everything looked fine, but that it was too early to tell if it was a boy or girl yet. He printed another picture of the sonogram directly from the machine; I’d make a copy for Jamie. I thanked the doctor as I lifted myself off the chair, with Mum’s help. As I dressed in the small bathroom, my mind raced with everything the doctor had said, with thoughts of Frank mixed in for added confusion. I felt bone-tired.

As Mum and I took the subway home, chattering happily all the way about the baby and the good news, I stared morosely out the window at the speeding walls. The one person who should have shared these moments with me was still completely absent, both physically and emotionally. I knew that being pregnant was not the same for me as for Frank; I had proof inside me that I would soon be a mother. He just didn’t see it, or feel it. It terrified me to think that he might never do so. Nodding mechanically at Mum’s words, I gritted my teeth and resolved to try one more time.

Where did Frank fit into all of this, where did he  _want_  to fit, if at all? I still had many plans to make; all of them would be incomplete as long as he didn’t make up his mind. I needed to know for sure whether he wanted to be part of them or not. His actions of late certainly spoke for him. His lack of involvement hadn’t ceased to surprise me, but I was reluctant to push him too much, afraid that he might go over the edge and refuse to see me at all.

My parents didn’t pry too much, acknowledging that I was old enough to deal with the situation—minor or not, I would soon be 18. I wasn’t sure Frank’s parents knew they were about to become grandparents; my money was on  _no_. I would have thought perhaps his parents might want to be involved, or contact me somehow—but they hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t.

Why didn’t that matter more to me? I cradled my belly. Apparently love was not only blind, it was incredibly stupid. I still tried so hard to justify Frank’s attitude and actions, when they did nothing but hurt me more. What seemed more important, it hadn’t infuriated me as it should. I knew it should bloody piss me off, that I had all the right in the world to be more self-righteous. As I sat there, I grew more agitated and angry.

It was time to lay everything on the table—again—and hope for the best.

~~~

Frank’s mobile was unavailable. I peered out of the back room at Waterstones. I hung up on another call, unanswered. I couldn’t believe it—we lived in the same city, and he couldn’t come see me for five minutes. Jamie, on the other hand, called me every other day and was planning weekends for us to spend together regardless of his medical studies.

Mum and Dad had stopped asking about Frank. They were worried about me, my evident sadness. Frank was never at the dormitories when I called; I had given up on hearing excuses from his small circle of friends, tired of Jack’s apologies and Alex’s explanations.

I was angry for feeling like I had to cover for him—pretending things were simply on hold for us. I felt like clawing up the walls in frustration. I was distracted with work, could barely concentrate in class, and was losing what little appetite I had left. All this stress couldn’t possible be good for the baby.

One last time—I took the tube to the University of Glasgow campus on my day off. The air was frigid, and I bundled up in my winter coat. My stomach was permanently clenched. I felt nervous. I walked up the stairs to his room, huffing and puffing all the way. There were a few empty cardboard boxes outside his door. I called his mobile and heard it ringing inside the room. I knocked on the door at the same time and figured one way or another, I would speak to him.

Frank answered his mobile first. “Claire?”

“I’m outside.”

The door was yanked open as he hung up. I stepped inside his room without waiting for an invitation. I caught a glimpse of my reflection on the window; I took in the light purple circles under my eyes and tangled curls. Where was the pregnancy glow? I looked like shit, tired and careworn. Frank closed the door behind me and sat in the desk chair.

I laid my hands in my lap, where my fingers interlocked nervously. My heart skipped a couple of beats. Frank’s presence used up all the air, leaving the atmosphere heavy and tense. Finally, I couldn’t bear the silence.

“I didn’t want to show up like this. But I needed to talk to you, and you haven’t been taking my calls. As usual.”

“I’m sorry.” He offered no further explanations.

“I told my parents already.” A few weeks ago. The air grew charged.

“What did they say?” Frank was carefully composed.

“I was surprised. They said they would support me and help me. With money and the like. They were shocked, to say the least. But they’ve assimilated everything. Sort of. They’ve been great.” I looked up at him, and Frank avoided my eyes. “So. Are you telling your parents?”

Frank remained silent. My breathing accelerated with each passing moment.

“It’s not easy for me,” he began.

“ _Easy?_ ” I interrupted. “Of course it’s not easy. I thought I would throw up. I was very upset. I didn’t know how they would react.” My voice rose a full octave in anger. I reminded myself to breathe.

Frank sighed. “You don’t understand. I’ve got things going for me now. I might get a scholarship to go abroad. There’s no way I’d be earning enough for awhile to support us.”

My fingers knotted together. “Back in December, you practically told me I could live with you, that your parents would understand. Now you’re telling me that what, they’ll disown you or something?” I softened my voice. “They can’t be that unreasonable.”

“They could be. If the scholarship doesn’t work out, and now  _this_ , they could cut me off without a cent. School, expenses, other things—they could take it all away.” He crossed his arms. That only incensed me further.

“You’re afraid of losing money? So get a job, like I did. Anything. We can’t afford to be picky. I’m still standing—juggling work and school. I’ll keep at it. I expected you to take some measure of responsibility.”

“Claire—”

“But I don’t anymore.” I forced myself to drag the words out. “I want this to be simple for us. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not asking you for money, either. I just want to know if I should include you in my plans—to have your support.”

“Look. Maybe I could give you some money, every week, monthly even. I could give the baby my name, whatever help you need. But I can’t commit to more.” Frank’s voice was hard; tears choked me and for a moment I couldn’t speak.

“So your parents would have a secret grandchild they’d never know about?”

“I’m sorry.” He looked away. Nobody spoke for nearly five minutes. The silence grew painful.

“Please don’t make me choose,” I said in a small voice.

“I’m not making you choose anything.”

“You are. And I know what my choice is. I’m not asking for money, I told you that. I don’t need your name on a piece of paper. That means nothing.” I swallowed past the knot in my throat, trying to sound firm. “I’m giving you an out. Tell me, are you with me or not? I won’t be mad. I won’t contact you anymore. You’ll never have to hear from us again. You can walk, right now.”

The stillness emanating from Frank was nerve-wracking. He still didn’t answer. Fear closed an icy hand around my heart, as it tried to beat steadily on. What was I doing? I realized then, I was waiting in vain for him to take my hand, touch me, hold me close and make me feel safe.

“I think…  give me a few days.”

“Now, Frank. In or out?”

“I’ll call you.”

“You won’t. I’m done waiting.”

“Please, Claire. I need to make some decisions. For both of us.” He pursed his lips, glancing at the grey-hued sky through the window. Finally, he leaned in and gave me a goodbye peck on the cheek. Dismissed, I walked to the door, my motions slow and paused. I put my hands in my pockets, so that the shaking would not betray me. Franks’ dark hair was mussed, his own face tired, too. He opened the door for me, and I left. I did not look back, as I once would have done. The door shut behind me.

That was the last time I saw Frank.


	10. Chapter 10

Heartache walked with me every day. He didn’t call—I didn’t expect him to, but it still hurt. I grieved and cried in the kitchen, the shower, the storage room at work. I looked like hell, but it made me feel better. It was as though I were slowly but surely extracting poison from my body.

A week later, I was at the dining table reading for school. My mobile rang; it was Jamie. I picked up with a cheery, “Hey, Fraser.”

“Claire?”

I sat up straight. My hands froze and my heart sped up. He rarely called me by my given name. “What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t sure ye were aware… I thought I’d call ye. I dinna ken how to say this. I just heard—Frank moved to Boston.”

Silence.

“Claire? Sassenach?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m here.” My voice was hoarse and teary. “He… moved away? Why?”

“I asked the campus office. He dropped his courses, and went to study abroad in America.”

The cardboard boxes outside his dormitory that day. I was still confused about the finer points of this conversation. I stumbled to my room, cradling the mobile against my face. I was breathing heavier by the minute. I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs.

Jamie was still there, alternating between words of comfort and reassurance for me and Gaelic mutterings of choice curse words for Frank. He’d taught me a few, of course, and when he got to calling Frank son of a pig and that he hoped crows would pick his entrails out, I burst out laughing instead.

“Sassenach? Are ye alright?”

“Yes!” I giggled and snorted. Laughing was definitely better than crying. I began babbling. “I haven’t seen him since last week. I went looking for him at the dorms.”

I heard him breathe in sharply, at a loss for words. I could almost feel the anger coming off him in waves. The way his sapphire eyes would flash. I guessed he was pretty close to swearing again, but refrained our of respect to me.

“Some part of me knew this, Jamie. I didn’t want to see it. He never called, he didn’t come ‘round, it couldn’t be plainer. I gave him an out. He took it.”

“Oh, Claire.” Jamie sighed, not arguing with anything I said. “You’re right. And yer parents? Have they said anything?”

I stretched out on my bed. “I think they sort of wanted to at the time, but now they never mention him.” A weary calm settled over me. The reaction to the news had drained me of all feelings.

“Would ye try to contact him? Find him in Boston?”

“What for?” I gave a bitter laugh. “So he can  _not_  be there from afar?”

I ran my fingers through my riot of curls, then placed my hand on my stomach. It was just beginning to swell. “Maybe this is a good thing,” Jamie said. “I’m just thinking out loud here. Isn’t it better for ye and the baby, that ye ken this now, before it was too late and ye found yerself married to Frank?”

“Jesus H., Jamie, he wouldn’t have married me.” I stroked my belly, imagining the baby could feel my touch.

We talked for awhile longer, and Jamie succeeded in calming me down for good. When we finally hung up, a little bit of serenity managed to find its way into my worn-out heart. I realized that unconsciously, I had been preparing myself for this, that deep down I’d known Frank would walk away. I had to let him go; he wasn’t coming back. I had to make my peace with that as best I could, for the baby’s sake. Frank did not want to be part of our lives, but this baby would always have me.

I was dead tired; I had worked that afternoon and had class the next day. It was a hard rhythm to keep up with, but I needed the money. I hoped I wouldn’t have to quit.

I lay on my bed, taking my mobile. I searched through my contacts, and found Frank’s number. My fingertip hovered over the Edit button, before I pressed it. I scrolled through the options, and saw Delete. I hesitated.  _You don’t need it anymore,_  I reasoned with myself. I pressed Delete. His number was gone.

I promised myself, as I fell asleep, that it would be the last time I worried so much, for our own good. I promised myself that I wouldn’t go looking for him. I promised myself that it would be the last time I cried over  _him_. It still hurt, and would for some time. There was a gnawing, throbbing pain in the middle of my chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon. I could only wait until it faded to a dull ache that I could ignore, until it became a part of me, like my hair or my nose.

I closed my eyes, and carefully sealed away my heart.


	11. Chapter 11

_call him Jamie ofc_

_no_

_why not? Is a good strong name_

_it could be a girl you know_

_middle name? Jamie works for boys and girls_

_i’ll think about it_

_i’ll be his favorite uncle_

_u will be her only uncle_

_i have lots of names to choose frm: james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser_

That was part of the good days. Jamie helped a lot; he was studying hard and couldn’t get away, but we talked every single day. He was planning to spend more time at Lallybroch and with me for Easter break. I told him he didn’t need to babysit me, and that he should enjoy his vacation. He laughed when I told him this, and said that he wanted to be around to watch my belly grow.

There were also bad days; I was angry, confused, distraught, tired, and very pregnant. I had hormones surging through me, and they tended to make me more likely to snap at people or burst into tears. Mum and Dad were at a loss as to what to do with me, but they were still supportive and patient. There wasn’t anything else they could do.

By the doctor’s next appointment, I was pretty much over the dangerous period. After the first three months, the risk for miscarriage was less likely, but I would still have to be careful. Dr. Raymond said the baby was growing very fast, almost a couple of weeks more mature than the calendar showed. To ward off the nausea and faintness that sometimes overtook me, he recommended I eat every four hours. No wonder I would gain two stone.

I spoke to Mrs. Fitz at Waterstones, and explained the situation to her. She reacted in the most grandmotherly way possible, hugged me, and said I could of course keep my job until I was eligible for maternity leave, or whatever I needed. And after the birth, I could come back when I was ready. She said she was going to start knitting for the baby as soon as I knew the gender.

At school, the headmaster was very understanding. He told me I could sit my exams when summer rolled around, and that he saw no reason why I couldn’t enroll in the  nursing program of my choice when the time came. He and the rest of the teaching staff would do everything possible to accommodate my needs. I heard a few comments from some classmates, which were immediately shut down. I walked down the halls with Louise and Mary, and most of the questions from everyone were positive and supportive.

I couldn’t wait to find out if it was a boy or a girl. The doctor still wouldn’t be able to tell for a few more weeks. I was deliberating over names, discussing the merits and drawbacks of using inventive spelling and names that would pair well with Beauchamp as a last name. Of course the baby wouldn’t be a Randall; he or she would then legally be completely mine. Frank had forfeited any right to the child.

Jamie kept texting me with his favorite names for boys and girls, pestering me to consider his own name. I thought about Henry or Julia, after my own parents. I thought about choosing a name that meant something, a name from the heart. I’d know it when I heard it.

I reached the end of the month eager for more rest. Mrs. Fitz had forbidden me from climbing the stepladders to stock books, and Fergus readily agreed to let me man the register more often than not. I insisted I was not incapacitated in any way, just pregnant. But I knew they were looking out for me, and I was touched.

One morning I woke up, and made my way sleepily to the bathroom. As I stretched in front of the mirror, turning sideways, suddenly I gasped. Seemingly overnight, my belly was very prominent; it could not be mistaken for anything but a pregnancy. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. I caught sight of my expression in the mirror; my eyes were bright, my cheeks flushed with pure delight. I was glowing. I turned this way and that, pulling the sweatshirt I had worn to bed taut against my swollen belly. A stray thought crossed my mind:  _Wait until Jamie sees this!_  I stroked it gently, imagining it was the baby’s hand, or a tiny foot. The ache I had been feeling for months diminished even further, fading into the background. I was finally healing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Jamie**

It wasn’t raining, for once. The overcast sky hung low. I drove slightly above the limit, relishing the speed. The trip from Lallybroch to Glasgow had felt longer than usual; I was anxious to get to my destination. Anxious to see her.

As the scenery alternated between green munros and the gray Clyde, I couldn’t stop thinking about Claire. I pictured her gently rounded, the soft peach of her skin, her amber eyes. I saw her healthier and happier than that last time we had seen each other. We talked endlessly on the phone, but it just wasn’t enough. I wanted—no,  _needed_ —to be near her, take care of her.

I had loved her since the moment I first met her. Walking through the hallways of primary school I had come across this beautiful hair with a riot of curly hair. I was a year older, but it didn’t matter. When she dropped her lunch bag by accident, I immediately knelt to help her. As she bent down beside me, I caught the amber light of her eyes, and I couldn’t look away. We were ten—puppy love.

That feeling only grew as the years passed. We talked, gradually cementing our friendship. I nicknamed her Sassenach. I knew all about her family, and she knew all about mine. Claire really listened, looking in your eyes without losing focus, not scanning the crowd to see who else was there. When Claire was with me, she made me feel that there was no one else in the world but us. We spent time together, with our group of friends, and sometimes alone. I taught her how to curse in Gaelic; she helped me with French. We shared and laughed and whined together, our friendship stronger than anything. But I always wanted to be more than Claire’s best friend—I wanted her heart.

She had never let on that she felt the same way about me. I didn’t want to act on my feelings for her, more afraid of losing her as a friend than admitting I loved her. I was her rock, her almost-brother, her accomplice, anything she needed me to be. I settled for that.

When I’d started uni, we didn’t see much of each other for awhile. I was busy with my studies, and spent time at Lallybroch when I could. I missed her company, but we saw each other every few weekends. Then she began dating Frank. I could only stand by and watch as she built a relationship with him. Claire confided in me as much as ever; I never let on how much it hurt to know she was kissed and held by somebody else. I went through the pain of watching Claire reach for someone else when I was right there, wishing and hoping while bound to silence as her friend.  
When she confessed she was sleeping with him (much more than I needed to know), my heart felt wrung out as though it had been stepped on. I was jealous, I admit. I didn’t want to picture Frank kissing her, touching her as I could only dream about…

Remembering what he’d ultimately done to her, I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. I lowered the volume on the music blaring from the speakers. I shook my head as if to clear it, but everything was in my head, nowhere to go. I had never staked any real claim on Claire, other than as her best friend.

It was the only thing I had now. It was lucky Frank had moved across an ocean. There was no telling what I’d be capable of if I ran into him in Glasgow. Smashing his face with my fist sounded good. It would probably feel even better. I knew Claire was still grieving over him leaving. She was recovering slowly; Frank’s abandonment of her and the baby had left a deep wound inside her. I longed to help her, to make her see that I could never leave so easily. Not when she held my heart.

Thinking about Claire calmed me down. I turned the volume back up, the rhythm pounding. I smiled as I drove next to the Clyde, on my way to her. Just knowing I was closer, that she was waiting for me…

I was home.


	13. Chapter 13

“You’re here already?” I closed the door behind me and met him halfway down the walkway. I reached out and put my arms around Jamie. I only reached around his ribs though; as he hugged me back, I became very aware of my belly, which stuck out like someone had stuffed a cushion under my shirt.

“Och. You’re so pregnant.” Jamie held me at arm’s length and scrutinized me from head to toe. His blue eyes were sparkling with laughter. I blushed; he took advantage of my flustered state and made me twirl once, clasping my hand.

“Hard not to notice.” I grinned at him.

Suddenly Jamie surprised me by crouching in front of me. He reached out to touch my stomach, and then hesitated with his hands held out in mid-air. “May I?” he asked.

“Sure.” I looked down on him while he placed his hands gingerly on my belly. “Oh, go on then, I’m not going to break.” I put my hands over his long fingers and pressed harder. Jamie was startled for a moment, then visibly relaxed.

“Hey, baby.” He cleared his throat and glanced up at me. “Still no names?”

I smiled. “I’m working on it.” I took one of Jamie’s hands in mine and tugged on it. He stood up and squeezed it.

Hand in hand, we walked into the house.

~~~

Jamie had some time off for spring holiday break. I was happy he would be around more. I’d just been released for break too. We had time to spend together.

I was at Lallybroch a fair amount, visiting with Ellen and occasionally Brian, his da, when farm work would permit it. I didn’t know why, but Jamie seemed intent on waiting on me hand and foot. It  made me very self-conscious whenever he anticipated my every need and want.

Like the time I said I was craving chips. It was merely a passing comment; my cravings weren’t really that strong. Never mind the Tesco’s down the road, where I could just as easily have bought the frozen kind and cooked them myself. Jamie didn’t care. He strapped me into the Peugeot and drove me to the nearest McDonald’s.

The late April afternoon was warm enough that we sat on a sidewalk bench to eat. The cool spring breeze lifted my hair, carrying the scent of the river with it.

“Here, have some more.” Jamie held the cardboard container in front of my face. The delicious smell of salty chips wafted under my nose.

“That is  _so_  unfair. Stop trying to make me fatter, James Fraser.” He just grinned. I gave up and grabbed a handful.  

“I like ye fat, Sassenach,” he said wickedly. “Fat as a plump wee hen.” I hurled a crispy chip at his head, where it landed in the red mass of his hair. He shook it off and I laughed.

We sat in easy silence. I folded my hands over my stomach and leaned slightly into him, my head on his shoulder. “Thanks for the chips.”

“Anytime.” He put his arms around my shoulders; the breeze was chilly. “I was wondering, Claire… about yer next appointment.” Jamie ducked his head. “Do ye think I could come with ye?”

“With me? Why?” I pictured me lying on the examination chair, Jamie standing beside me. No way that was happening—Jesus H., it would be embarrassing.

“I’d like to see my future niece or nephew. Besides, it would be an interesting experience as a future doctor, aye?” He glanced sideways at me.

“Oh, don’t even start. You won’t get your way this time, mister.” I sat up straight and crossed my arms. Jamie’s expression made me realize I hadn’t heard the end of it yet. “I promised you a print-out, but that’s as close as you’ll get to the ultrasound.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see.” He was dangerously close to smirking.

I stood up from the bench. “Let’s go. I’m tired.” I stopped to hitch up my jeans. Jamie caught the motion and snickered. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, but clothes don’t fit me well anymore,” I huffed indignantly. “I’m too pregnant for my old jeans, but not pregnant enough for the maternity kind.”

“Ye dinna have to apologize, for anything, Sassenach. I understand. Come on, let’s go home.” Jamie placed his arm around my shoulders again as we walked towards the Peugeot.


	14. Chapter 14

Jamie got his way in the end, of course. He went to Mum and asked her instead. She was only too happy to oblige. He drove us to the clinic, glancing every so often at me fuming in the backseat.

As we waited, I gave up being annoyed. I was a little more than 25 weeks along, five months pregnant. Dr. Raymond could probably tell now whether it was a boy or girl.

“You’re sure ye want to know?” Jamie paged through a magazine carelessly.

“Of course I do. I have to pick a name, buy baby outfits.” I smiled to myself.

“Any more thoughts on names?”

“I guess I like Alexander for a boy.” Jamie smiled widely—it was one of his many names. “Oh, stuff it. But I still don’t know about girls’ names.” The receptionist looked my way and nodded towards the door, smiling. I stood up heavily, and Jamie took my arm and guided me into the examination room.

Dr. Raymond greeted Mum and me, and glanced at Jamie, smiling. He extended his hand and Jamie shook it. I introduced them briefly.

“Hello, nice to meet you.” The doctor looked to both of us uncertainly. “Would you be the father?”

I flushed darkly, unable to look at Jamie. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Och, no, just a friend.” Jamie smiled reassuringly at me, seemingly unbothered by the comment.

“So, Claire, how are you today?” The doctor recouped and sat at his desk, my file open before him. Mum and Jamie sat on either side of me, listening.

“Alright, I guess. Very tired lately, sleepy. Hungry.”

“Cravings? Nausea?” Jamie grinned at the doctor’s question as he jotted down something in my file. I knew he was remembering the chips and I clipped his ankle with my foot.

“Not really. I try to eat light every four hours, crackers, juice. I’m taking the pre-natal vitamins, lots of water. We’re good.” I patted my belly.

“Alright then. Let’s weigh you and get you on the table.” Dr. Raymond stood and so did we. He glanced at Jamie.

“It’s okay. He can come too.” I ignored him while I took off my shoes and stepped on the scale. “He’s going to medical school. He wanted to come because  _experience_ , you know.” I snorted and Jamie chuckled. He heard my unspoken words:  _Not just because he’s tremendously annoying._

The doctor stood next to me and recorded my weight. I had gained a stone already. I reminded myself that it was mostly baby weight, since I didn’t really look that heavy. I gave Jamie a tiny smile as I excused myself to the bathroom to put on the flimsy paper robe over my clothes. When I came out, I moved on to the examination table, and Jamie helped me up. I kept the robe tightly shut, even though nothing showed. Mum stood in the background, uncharacteristically quiet.

Dr. Raymond took his place beside the table and flipped on the ultrasound machine. He spread cold gel on my stomach and I winced at the feeling. Jamie edged closer and took my hand.

The cursor moved over the slippery surface of my skin, and the monitor flickered with shapes. At first it only looked like electronic snow. Then the doctor pointed out a head, body, and arms. You could see stubby hands waving around; even though I was seeing it, it was hard to believe I held a little person inside me.

Tears prickled my eyes. I sniffed and covered my mouth with my free hand, holding back sobs. Jamie squeezed my fingers. He looked a bit choked up himself.

“Are you ready to know the sex of the baby?” the doctor asked.

“You can tell now? For sure?” I propped myself up on my elbows, excited.

“Yes, we can be fairly certain of what it will be.”

“Yes. I want to know.” I peered intently at the monitor, even though I could barely tell the head apart from the feet.

“Give me a minute… let’s try to turn the baby around.” He shifted the cursor all over my belly, trying to find the right angle. Finally, he stopped and hit a button on the console. The image froze on the screen and he pointed at the fuzzy shapes.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

~ ~ ~

A girl. I lay in bed that night, the ceiling fan whirring. I pulled the covers up. I remembered Mum’s look of delight, tears in her eyes. Jamie gave me a hug as soon he helped me off the table. Dr. Raymond printed out another image of the baby, which I immediately handed to Jamie. “I promised, didn’t I?” I told him, when he wouldn’t take it.

The ride home was marked by Mum calling her friends, and of course, Dad. She handed me her mobile so I could tell him all about his granddaughter. I was over the moon myself.

I had to pick a name soon. I would consider my mother’s name, and some of Jamie’s picks as well.

Before I fell asleep, I recalled Jamie’s interest and enthusiasm for me and the baby. He talked nonstop on the way home; he wanted his parents to know, and Jenny, so that his Mam could organize a baby shower. I closed my eyes when the darkened bedroom became a blur. I felt so tired…

As I drifted off, a thought less substantial than smoke suggested,  _Jamie loves you…_  like a dream, it vanished.


	15. Chapter 15

The baby would be due in mid-August, give or take a couple of weeks, Dr. Raymond had said. Almost a month had passed since I’d found out it was a girl. I had spent most of that time dreaming of pastel colors and lavender baby outfits. Mum was in seventh heaven, already planning to redecorate my tiny room to accommodate the baby.

I was in school struggling to finish out the semester as best I could. The days dragged on endlessly, and I was falling asleep in every one of my classes. I desperately wanted to finish my senior year and enroll in nursing school.

I was getting heavy for my frame. May was unseasonably hot—unseasonable for Glasgow, anyway. Humid rain pattered down every other day, and the heat was making me miserable. I never thought I’d see the day when I would miss the cold rainy weather of a Glaswegian spring.

Jamie came by often, helping me out with applications and taking the edge off my mood swings and the weather. I didn’t think he did anything but spend time at my house, studying beside me, or helping out around the house. I asked him about that.

“Jamie, doesn’t Ellen miss you? You hardly seem to spend time at Lallybroch at all lately, except maybe breakfast. And Sunday nights.”

He shrugged and looked at his shoes. “Mam kens I like to be here.”

I tried to catch his eye again, but he wouldn’t look up. “Jamie—”

“It’s alright, Sassenach, really.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Right now, I want to spend time with my best friend, and my niece.”

I blushed, and dropped the subject.

~ ~ ~

I walked slowly to the Argyle Street metro station. I hoisted my backpack a little higher on my back to distribute the weight. I dragged myself slowly down the steps. One more month and I wouldn’t be allowed back at work, on maternity leave of sorts. I fanned myself with a sheaf of school handouts I carried; it wasn’t even that hot really, but in my very pregnant state, it felt scorching underground.

I plugged headphones into my mobile, starting up a playlist. I bopped my head along, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard plastic seat. The mobile rang, managing to cut through the volume, annoying in its insistency. It was an unknown number with a strange area code.

“Hello?”

“Claire.” I froze and my breath caught in my throat. Frank. There was silence on the other end as well, and then he tried again. “Claire, it’s me. Frank.”

Four months after he left, after I’d waited for his call, after I’d cried myself to sleep. All I could manage was a strangled, indeterminate noise while I gripped the hem of my shirt.

“Please, don’t hang up. I just… I called to see how you’ve been.” His voice sounded rushed, pleading. I wondered if that’s what I’d sounded like to him, when I’d asked for his support.

“Oh.” My tone was flat and emotionless. I crossed my arms, cradling the phone to my face. An icy wave flooded my stomach, half anger, half something else.

“Listen, I know it’s been awhile—”

“No,  _you_  listen,” I hissed. “You’re the one that left, like the coward you are, without a call, a text, nothing. I owe you nothing. So don’t just call and expect things to be fine between us, ‘cause they’re not.” My voice rose from a venomous whisper until I was practically shouting on the phone. People were trying not to stare, but utterly failing. I was beyond caring.

“I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought. I wanted to call,” he said lamely.

“You know nothing, Frank Randall. You’re an ass.” My hands were shaking. There was no love here, it had disappeared. I felt stupid for ever thinking it had existed, at least on his part. Perhaps a fraction, the part that would inevitably be my daughter’s, would remain. A useless part, unnecessary.

Frank inhaled sharply. “What about the baby, Claire? Are you still pregnant?”

“Oh, please, like you give a bleeding  _fuck_. You didn’t care then, you sure as shit don’t care now. Whatever lets you sleep at night, Frank. Pretend I miscarried, that I had an abortion, like you wanted.” I spoke through gritted teeth, realizing everyone in the car was listening. “You would have no claim on the child, ever.” I didn’t answer his question directly.

“But then—you mean…” he trailed off.

“I don’t need you, Frank. Don’t think about coming to see me. Forget it. Delete my number. Don’t you  _ever_  call me again, is that understood?  _Never_.” I ended the call and hurled the mobile against the floor of the train. I hoped it broke. I wished it had been Frank’s face.

I rested my head in my hands. My breathing was heavy and forced. I had to calm down, calm down for the baby. I didn’t feel like crying; I was past that. At length, an elderly gentleman picked up my mobile from the floor. He held it out to me with a soft, “Here, lass.” The screen hadn’t even cracked. I thanked him and pocketed the phone. All I wanted to do was talk to Jamie.

~ ~ ~

“Okay, so this was a tad upsetting.” I sat cross-legged on the living room sofa—or as cross-legged as my belly would allow. I caressed it gently, ready to relive the conversation with Frank for Jamie.

“Ye’re scaring me, Sassenach. What is it?” Jamie sat next to me, peering into my face.

“Alright. Well. Um. I took the tube home, right, and then my mobile rang. It was… Frank.” I was talking mostly to my stomach, unable to look him in the eyes.

I didn’t register Jamie’s reaction for a moment. Then I noticed his hands clenched into tight fists, and he jumped from his seat.

“Jamie, please.” I tried to hold his hand, but he paced away from me, his back turned.

“What did he want? What could he possibly have to say to ye after all this time?” He ran his hands through his hair, his jaw tense. When Jamie finally looked back at me, he found me with my arm reaching out to him, trying to calm him down.

“I’m sorry.” Jamie immediately sat back down. I put my hand on his broad shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I dinna even ken why I’m so angry, when it’s you that’s probably pissed off right now.” He attempted a weak smile.

“I’m not really anything at him. I  _was_ ,” I amended, seeing the expression on his face. “But anger is an emotion, and I don’t feel anything for him, not anymore.” It was true; I felt only a faint measure of regret for what could have been. But I didn’t think Jamie believed me.

“I have half a mind to get on a plane tonight and beat the shite out of him, I swear. I could kill him, I really could.” Jamie ran his hands through his hair again, rumpling it completely. It stood out in wild red licks that rivaled my own untamed curls.

“Don’t, Jamie.” I smoothed his hair for him, and he stilled at my touch.

“Don’t what?”

“He’s not worth it,” I said softly. “I appreciate the sentiment, I do. But there’s no point. What’s done is done; he doesn’t deserve a single thought from me or you.” I struggled to rise from the couch, and Jamie caught my arm and helped me up. I huffed, embarrassed, but he only smiled.

“Come on. Stay for dinner.” As we walked towards the kitchen, Jamie wrapped his arm around my non-existent waist. An old book quote popped into my mind:

_Those who really love, love in silence, with deeds and not in words._


	16. Chapter 16

Jamie and I drove to Lallybroch. My stomach felt too close to the dashboard in the small Peugeot. Even though I was safely strapped in, I cradled my belly in my arms. I was a little more than six months pregnant and huge.

The last time I’d been to the doctor, everything was fine. The baby was healthy and growing fast. I dozed off lightly while music played on the radio. Jamie shook me awake gently when we reached the turnoff for Lallybroch farm. The manor house loomed before us and Jamie parked the car in the small shed built for it.

Jamie carried my backpack. He had promised to help me write a final paper, editing and such. He pulled me out carefully from the car as I gripped the door frame. I sighed gratefully; the baby was making me feel enormously heavy and clumsier than usual. Jamie led me up the stone steps and through the front hall. I let him—there was no use arguing anymore. It felt nice to be taken care of.

Ellen was drawing on the dining room table, an antique she had restored herself. She stood up to greet me, with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the belly. She was helping my mum redecorate my bedroom, and was thrilled with the idea of a sweet baby coming into our lives.

We cleared some space on the table and I pulled my laptop from my backpack. I fell into the nearest chair which Jamie held out for me. While I waited for the computer to connect to the internet, Jamie badgered me about names for the baby.

“Too bad it isna a wee lad. I still think James would have been a great choice.”

“Thankfully it’s a wee lassie,” I teased. “One Jamie is plenty.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon working. I insisted on writing my paper longhand first—I couldn’t focus my ideas otherwise. Jamie pretended to be annoyed, claiming he couldn’t read my handwriting and he’d be the one to proofread it. While I typed it up, Ellen and Jamie fixed a plate of fruit for me. I made Jamie eat at least half of it.

The day passed in a blur. Jamie made vocabulary flashcards for himself, and I caught up on other schoolwork. When I finally glanced at time on my laptop, it was nearly half past seven. I heard Brian, Jamie’s da, rumbling in the kitchen.

“It’s late, I should go. They’re probably waiting for me at home.” I began picking up the mess of papers and shutting off my laptop at the same time.

“Claire, why don’t you stay for dinner?” Ellen suggested.

“Oh, I couldn’t. Really, it’s enough that you put up with me here, when I’m constantly taking up Jamie’s time,” I apologized, blushing pink.

“I’m not anywhere I don’t want to be,” Jamie interjected. “Go on, stay. I owe ye. I’m always raiding yer fridge.” I raised one eyebrow at him, and he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Brian walked through the door then, and after hugging me hello also reiterated Ellen’s invitation. I gave in, and asked her what I could do to help.

“No, Claire, please sit. You’re our guest.” She flashed a beautiful dimpled smile at Jamie and me. When I made for the kitchen despite her words, Jamie steered me back to the chair and threatened to strap me down. He and Ellen went off to the kitchen, leaving me to Brian’s conversation.

I was finally allowed to cut potatoes. The four of us sat to dinner; amidst the easy banter and the laughter, time flew. For dessert, we moved into the living room. Chatting all the while, I polished off a tiny slice of cake. I helped Ellen clear the dishes, but she wouldn’t let me help her wash them. Jamie made me sit on the couch again, ignoring my mutterings about his stubbornness.

I sat talking to Brian and Jamie about my upcoming graduation and nursing school. I felt my eyelids get heavier and heavier, but could do nothing about it. I drifted off midsentence; somewhere in my sleep-soaked state I figured Jamie would wake me to drive me home.

~ ~ ~

I woke up with a start in a darkened room. The pillow beneath me was too soft, plush with down feathers. I could feel the texture beneath my hands as I propped myself up, trying to scan the darkness for something familiar. Faint light came poured in from the hall. Then I recognized the shape of the windows, how they took up space on the wall to my right. I was still at Lallybroch. Disoriented, I tried to reach for a lamp and called out.

“Jamie?”

I heard the pounding of feet. The light suddenly came on, blinding me. Jamie padded barefoot into the room, in plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. He looked startled himself.

“What’s wrong, Sassenach?” Catching the confused look on my face, he remembered how strange this situation would seem to me. “Sorry, ye basically passed out. We didna wish to wake ye. It’s a long drive.” Jamie smiled sheepishly. “Mam called yer mother and explained. She told us ye should just stay here.”

“Oh. Okay.” I rubbed my eyes. Then I pictured how my hair must look. I tried to comb it with my fingers. Some coherency returned to me while I tamed my hair and Jamie watched. “Was this Jenny’s old room?”

“Aye. It hasna changed much since she marrit and left.” His older sister’s personality was still very much imprinted in the room. He sat in an upholstered chair near the bed, dwarfing it with his massive frame.

I bent slightly to pull up my socks when suddenly, I gasped. My eyes went wide, and my hands flew to my belly in shock.

“Are ye alright Sassenach? What is it? Does anything hurt?” He was alert, worried. He stood up and half-reached towards me, unsure.

 _She was kicking._  I could feel her moving, my shock mingling with wonder. A smile peeked at the corners of my mouth.

“She’s moving,” I said softly. “She’s kicking me… hard.”

“Really?” I watched Jamie’s reaction change from concern to surprise. He came over and sat on the edge of the bed in the dim lamplight.

“Here, feel it.” I took his hand and placed it on my belly. A second later, the baby gave a series of fluttering kicks.

Jamie gazed at my stomach in a helpless sort of wonder that mirrored my own. He trailed his fingers gently over it, waiting for her to move again.

We didn’t say anything for a long time. We just sat there together, spellbound.


	17. Chapter 17

**Jamie**

Mam and I sliced some veg and prepared dinner. I could hear Claire having a chat with Da in the dining room. I had brightened considerably at the prospect of Claire staying for dinner. I think Mam knew the reason, but she kept her comments to herself.

I knew how much it cost Claire to ask for help with her schoolwork; she was so tired lately. I had picked her up in Glasgow, and she’d dozed off almost as soon as we were on the M80. I turned down the volume on the stereo to avoid disturbing her sleep. When we arrived at Lallybroch, I hauled the door open, smiling like an idiot as I helped her out of the car. I hoped she didn’t notice the look on my face—like gazing at the sun. I felt stupid.

I linked my arm through hers to help her navigate the pebbly yard. For once, she seemed grateful for my help—she could be stingingly sarcastic, but I guessed my persistence had paid off. I loved taking care of her, in any small way I could. It wasn’t much, but anything I could do to make her life easier, still didn’t feel like enough.

Mam had greeted us in the dining room. I kent she loved Claire like another daughter. Mam and Da had always wanted a big family, but Jenny and I were all they had. Knowing Claire all these years, as my best friend, they had grown close.

I shifted some of Mam’s drawing papers around on the table as Claire pulled her laptop out. I took the chair beside hers and drummed my fingers on the table.

“Have ye thought of any names yet? I can make ye another list, if it helps.” I grinned at Claire.

“I don’t know yet. I just don’t want to get it wrong.” Her computer screen flickered to life.

“How can ye get it wrong?”

“If I pick a name she’ll hate. It’s a big responsibility.”

“Too bad it isna a wee lad. I still think James would have been a great choice.”

“Thankfully it’s a wee lassie,” she laughed. The sound of it gave me hope. “One Jamie is plenty.”

Both of us worked for the better part of the afternoon. Mam and I cut up some fresh fruit for her. I remembered she disliked melon, so I piled it with apple slices, grapes, and strawberries. Claire ate steadily, and when she was full, she made me eat the rest of it.

Mam and I persuaded her to stay for dinner. Da walked in, greeting Claire and kissing my mother. We wouldn’t let her help out in the kitchen; she pestered us until Mam gave her some potatoes to peel and cut quickly.

While Claire talked with Da in the other room, Mam and I stood at the kitchen island. I chopped vegetables on a wooden block while she grilled chicken at the stove. We worked in companionable silence until she broke it.

“I know, ye ken. Ye can see it in your face.” My mother took a spatula and stirred the pan.

My hands hovered for a moment above the tomatoes I was slicing and quickly tried to think whether I  should say anything or reveal nothing. Leaning slight to my right, I could just see the back of Claire’s curls in deep conversation with Da. I didn’t think she could hear us. I opted for honesty.

“Do ye think she sees it too?” I kept my eyes down purposefully, but intent on Mam’s answer.

“Not yet.”

The knife I held nearly slipped, and I steadied my hand. Way to lose a finger, Fraser. “What exactly do ye mean, not yet?”

She turned to face me, spatula in hand. Her smile was gentle. “Claire doesna realize it yet, but she loves ye too.”

“Are ye sure?” I tried to keep the exhilaration in my voice to a minimum. I lowered my tone, afraid Claire might hear.

“Mother’s intuition. I hope hers kicks in soon. Before ye go crazy.” Mam gestured towards the plates. “Can ye set the table please?”

When we sat down to dinner, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had such a great time. I watched Claire covertly, trying to avoid openly staring. Her laugh was pure magic; I hadn’t heard it much in the last months.

When dessert rolled around, I convinced Claire that it was alright to eat a small sliver of black forest gateau. She helped my mother clear the dishes, but Mam shooed her out of the kitchen when she attempted to begin washing them. I directed Claire towards the living room couch again. I thought I could hear her grumbling under her breath, but didn’t quite catch what she said.

Claire talked to my father about her plans for nursing school. I watched her face intently—she fairly glowed. Her hands waved expressively, animated. But I noticed her amber eyes looked tired, despite the glow. Eventually, they closed as she fell asleep. Da smiled and shook his head indulgently before he went to his study. I went to confer with my mother in the kitchen.

“Mam? Claire fell asleep right on the sofa.”  _And she looks absolutely beautiful._

“Puir thing, she must be exhausted.” She wiped her hands on a tea towel and turned to me. “Do ye want me to wake her? It’s late. Julia might worry.”

“She’s pretty out of it. I dinna want to drive her like that.” I knew what she was about to suggest.

“Ye’re right, I suppose. Weel, I’ll call Julia and tell her Claire fell asleep. I’m sure she can stay over. What do ye think?”

“I think that’s fine.” Mam smiled at me and reached for her mobile. I could hear her speaking faintly as I went back to the living room.

Claire’s head was tilted to one side, her hands resting on her belly. Her mouth was open in a soft  _O_. I was tempted to trace it slightly with my finger, but immediately pushed that thought from my head. Instead, I settled for lifting her carefully from the sofa, so as not to wake her. Pregnant and all, she did not feel that heavy to me.

I carried her quickly upstairs, and into Jenny’s old bedroom. I laid her head on the pillow and pulled the eiderdown quilt over her. She barely stirred as she shifted on her side.

I stood next to her, smoothing her riotous curls away from her forehead. Claire smiled briefly, and nestled further under the covers. I resolved to leave the hall light on, should she wake up in the dark in unfamiliar surroundings. I closed the door halfway behind me, and went to my own room. I put on pajama pants and an old shirt. I laid down on the bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

~ ~ ~

I heard her call out to me, and I was startled. I sprinted back to Jenny’s room and hit the light switch, imagining she had fallen off the bed or something. Her face was puzzled, just as I’d thought.

“What’s wrong, Sassenach?” She was looking around, taking in the furnishings and smoothing the quilt over her legs. “Sorry, ye basically passed out. We didna wish to wake ye. It’s a long drive.” I smiled at her. “Mam called yer mother and explained. She told us ye should just stay here.”

“Oh. Okay.” Claire passed a hand over her eyes. I watched, amused, as she tried to tame the mad nest of her hair. “Was this Jenny’s old room?” Her voice was still sleepy

“Aye. It hasna changed much since she marrit and left.” I settled into a chair to keep her company for a bit. Suddenly her eyes widened and she gasped.

“Are ye alright Sassenach? What is it? Does anything hurt?” I was concerned. Perhaps she was in pain, or she felt sick. A thousand possibilities crossed through my mind; I rose from my seat, reaching for Claire. I pulled my hand back at the last minute—maybe I shouldn’t touch her.

The astonishment was now mingled with what could only be described as wonder. Absolute wonder. I still lingered next to her, not touching her.

“She’s moving,” Claire murmured. “She’s kicking me hard.”

“Really?” Surprise and relief coursed through me. Since she didn’t appear to be in pain, I finally got up the courage to sit next to her on the bed. I perched myself on the very edge, not wanting to smother her.

“Here, feel it.” Claire grabbed my hand and placed it on her belly. She pulled me close enough that I could smell her warm sleepy scent, like fresh green things. Before I could inhale deeply and commit it to memory, I felt it too. The baby kicked beneath my hand in short little bursts of movement.

I stared at her stomach in awe, lost in the same sense of amazement that thrilled Claire. I touched her belly lightly, with tracing fingertips.

We stayed like that for a long time, marveling over the miracle of tiny kicking feet.


	18. Chapter 18

June rolled around, and with it, summer hols. I was set on sticking to my plan, regardless of how big I was getting, so I could be accepted into nursing school, build a career, and take better care of my baby girl. I knew Mum and Dad would be glad to help, but I couldn’t depend on them forever.

Despite all the sleeping in class, I passed my exams with flying colors. Jamie, of course, played a huge part in my success. I couldn’t have done it without his help and encouragement. Dad had started driving me to school in the mornings; my joints ached and I had a strange shooting pain in my hips. Dr. Raymond had mentioned this was due to my pelvis widening, to prepare for childbirth. I cringed at the thought; if all went well, and there was no reason to think otherwise, it would be a natural birth. In case of complications, we could resort to a cesarean section. I began to walk with a distinct waddle as my center of gravity completely shifted.

We were stuck in the middle of a strange heat wave—strange for Glasgow, anyway. The constant humidity made me moody, and often, just downright pissed for no reason. Jamie was another issue entirely. Whenever I was in one of my pissy moods, sometimes I would take it out on him. It wasn’t his fault—it was just that he was constantly with me, the one who was there to catch the fallout. He would then walk on eggshells around me, which would make me feel terribly guilty. I apologized, he would say there was nothing to forgive, and back to normal.

Sometimes, I felt strange around him. I would glance up from whatever I was doing and catch a  _look_  in his blue eyes, which made me blush hotly and I couldn’t meet his gaze. I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

Jamie was very attached to the baby, for reasons I couldn’t fathom. He spent time talking to her, taking care of me almost as much as Mum. He was on break from uni too, and had loads of free time; he wouldn’t resume classes until September, like me. That would be after the baby was born. In between helping his da on the farm, he had nothing but time on his hands.

I’d go out for coffee (well, tea) with my girlfriends sometimes. But mostly, Jamie and I spent afternoons in the living room, at my house or Lallybroch. Jamie would read to my belly, claiming babies could hear everything inside the womb. He would sit next to me and sing—horribly off-key I must say—Queen and Beatles’ songs.

I secretly loved when he did this. He was so good at many things, but singing wasn’t one of them. It never ceased to amaze me how many things Jamie had going for him: sweet, handsome, intelligent, caring, sensitive… like I told him playfully, the girl who got him would be lucky indeed.

But then, thinking about this random, hypothetical lucky girl gave me a slight twinge in the chest that I couldn’t explain away.

~ ~ ~

June ended, and with it came July—the beginning of my eighth month of pregnancy. I paced about my room, between the tiny closet and dresser, picking clothes to pack my hospital bag. There was still a month to go, but it was better to be prepared. I folded t-shirts and loose-fitting pants inside, wondering how soon I could fit into my regular clothes. I included a set of baby clothes Mum and Ellen had bought for the baby for when I brought her home.

I was killing time before Jamie picked me up for a late lunch at Lallybroch. My mum and dad were out for the day. I zipped up the bag and sat on my bed. Our mothers had done a great job fixing up my room for the baby’s arrival. In no time at all, they had repainted the walls a soft sage color, added a tiny bassinette with soft blankets, a set of drawers for the baby’s clothes and things (which doubled as a changing table), and only had to remove my old desk to make everything fit. It was a little cramped, but I didn’t mind at all; everything looked beautiful.

I heard my mobile ping with a text. Jamie was here. I grabbed my purse and slowly made my way downstairs, gripping the banister tightly. Jamie was patient, aware that I was moving a lot slower these days.

As we walked to the car, he looked sideways at me. “Ye look nice.”

I smiled in thanks. I was wearing a dress Mum had picked out for me. It was maternity of course, and I had only agreed to wear it because it kept me cool in the humid heat. I preferred the maternity pants with the scary elastic waistband, hidden under flowy blouses.

Jamie drove within the speed limit, cranking up the AC and the music, chatting all the while. He seemed slightly wound up, distracting me with questions. There was little traffic on the motorway, and we made record time to Lallybroch.

“Claire,” Jamie said uncertainly. He took my hand and pressed it between his. “Please dinna hate me for this.”

“For what?” I asked, bewildered. I turned my head and suddenly noticed that there were quite a few cars parked around us.

“Keep in mind, this wasna my idea.” Jamie let go of my hand, and got out of the car. He came around to open my door and help me out.

“James Alexander etcetera, etcetera Fraser, what’s going on?”

He just smiled, shaking his head. He walked me up the steps and I could hear voices and laughter inside. I stopped at the door and refused to budge.

“Sassenach, come on. Be nice.”

“You be nice. Tell me what’s behind this door or I swear I’m walking home.” To Inverness to catch a train, at least.

“Alright, alright… but ye do realize I could just carry ye—” He stopped at the murderous look on my face. “Fine. Our mums, Jenny, and yer friends might have organized something for ye. Like a party.”

Oh. I considered; I didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of attention, but there was nothing I could do to avoid it. Jamie was still regarding me warily, expecting one of my recent temper explosions. I smiled at him instead, and he looked relieved.

He opened the door for me, and I saw Lallybroch was filled with people. Mum was there, standing by a table filled with food. Ellen was with her, arranging plates. Louise and Mary were chatting on a sofa. Jenny, Jamie’s sister, came to me, enveloping me in a fierce hug.

“Claire! How’ve ye been, love?” She seemed the exact opposite of Jamie—dark-haired, much shorter, but with the same slant to her blue eyes that marked them both as Frasers.

“I’ve been well! Tired, but okay.” I let her lead me into the living room. There were some of my schoolmates, all women. A baby shower—I took in the decorations, all delicate pastel colors. Balloons and stuffed animals and baby shoes were strewn about.

“If ye need anything at all, ye ken Ian and I are here for ye,” Jenny said. She and her husband lived in Glasgow too, but were busy with three children of their own. I knew Jamie enjoyed being uncle to them too.

Everyone turned to me excitedly, rising at once to kiss me hello and touch my huge belly. Jamie lingered by the door, until he caught my eye. He gestured outside and waved; I understood he would be leaving us girls to our party.

Ellen and Mum each hugged me as I thanked them for the surprise. “Everything is absolutely beautiful!” Even the napkins fit with the baby motif. I looked at the refreshment table—the food looked simply superb.

My mum leaned in and stage-whispered, “This was mostly her idea,” nodding towards Ellen. “She took care of pretty much everything. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It really is, Ellen. Thank you so much.”

“I’m so glad you like it, dear.” Ellen put her arm around my shoulders and directed me to a sofa. I plopped down heavily; I was glad to be off my feet.

There were games and cake and gifts—lots of gifts. There were adorable pink and yellow sundresses, tiny onesies, and soft plush blankets. Ellen and Jenny had found a secondhand stroller and a high chair, for when the baby was older.

Better than all the presents, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the love and support they gave me. I couldn’t help but cry a little as I thanked them all for coming, and for the beautiful things they had given me.

Mum, Jenny, and I stayed to help Ellen clean up after everyone left, despite her protests. Brian came home around half past seven, and gave himself the job of piling the gifts I had received into the trunk of Mum’s car. I only stopped to wonder why Jamie wasn’t back yet, but I imagined he must have other things to do. Jenny hugged me goodbye with a reminder to call her anytime.

When we got home, the silver Peugeot was parked outside the house. Mum urged me inside, saying that Dad would help her carry it all in. Jamie was actually watching TV with my father. Dad rose to help Mum.

“Did ye have fun?” Jamie asked as I approached.

“I did, actually. Thank you. Did you have trouble, keeping the secret?” I grinned.

“A little. Especially since I know how much you hate being the center of attention.” He knew me well. “Besides, yer mother and Jenny would have killed me if I had so much as hinted.”

I nodded. “You’re probably right.”

My parents walked in, loaded with boxes and bags. Jamie went to help them. We all trooped up to my room, and they laid the gifts on my bed. Mum helped me sort through them and put them away in the dresser.

After she’d left, Jamie took on a shy expression. “There’s still something missing here.”

“What?” I shifted the gift bags heaped on my bed, thinking I had missed one.

“It’s downstairs. Let me get it.” He darted out of my room before I could ask more.

I heard him call out to my dad. I wondered why he would need his help. Then I heard them both grunting with effort. Their steps clambered awkwardly up to my room. Suddenly Dad’s back came into view. He and Jamie were lugging a rocking chair between them.

I gasped with delight. There was a huge white satin bow tied around it. They set the chair in the last unoccupied corner of the room, next to the crib. Dad shook his head, and clapped Jamie on the back.

I covered my mouth with one of my hands, afraid I was going to start bawling. I had always admired this particular rocking chair. It had sat in the Lallybroch guest room; it was an antique, the wood worn, weathered, and restored to perfection by Ellen herself.

“Just what the room was missing.” Jamie shrugged and smiled. He took in my expression and seemed even more pleased with himself.

“Jamie, it’s too much. I can’t accept this.” I knew she had rocked both her children in it. Despite my words, I couldn’t’ resist stepping closer, reaching out to touch the smooth wooden armrests.

“Mam wanted ye to have it,” he said simply. “She’s not takin’ it back, Sassenach, and I really dinna want to carry it down again. It’s too heavy.” I laughed.

“Thank you.” I moved towards him. Jamie looked slightly taken aback as I reached up and hugged him. My arms only came around the top of his ribcage. He hesitated for a second before putting his arms around me too.

As he held me, I felt strange. I rested my forehead on the center of his chest for a moment. Breathing deeply, I caught a hint of Jamie’s scent, warm and clean. For a moment, I forgot about my worries: how in less than a month I would be taking care of a newborn, what I would do if she wouldn’t stop crying, if I’d be a terrible mother. Everything faded into the background.

It was just us, Claire and Jamie. He would help me through this, as would all my family. I felt brave, in his arms.

I felt perfect.


	19. Chapter 19

The rest of the summer month passed in a blur. Time breezed through July, while I plodded, feeling heavier and clumsier each day. In preparation for nursing school, I contacted my future teachers, explaining about my pregnancy and due-date, and requesting some leniency in my attendance for the first few weeks. They were all impressed at my commitment to the program and agreed to email me assignments.

I registered for courses, and Jamie helped me navigate the admission process and University of Glasgow campus. We would be back to school in September together—and I’d have my baby. I made dinner for him often at home, in thanks, navigating the kitchen with my huge stomach before me.

On a Sunday morning, I sat in the rocking chair in my room, nestled comfortably with a couple of pillows behind my back. I was preparing for classes, doing some assigned reading when a sharp pain stabbed my lower back. It wasn’t like anything I’d felt before. It was hot, but stung like an ice pick. Instantly, I was afraid. It couldn’t be time yet.

I turned to the calendar on my mobile. August 13.

Alright. So it was mid-August, quite literally. It was certainly possible that I was going into labor. I was having contractions. Who was at home to help me? Dad was shopping for groceries but Mum was here. I tried to stand up, gripping the rocking chair when I was pierced through with the spiked pain. I limped to my bedroom doorway, afraid to trigger more contractions with my movements.

“Mum?” I called out. I was breathing heavily.

“Yes, love?” she answered from the kitchen.

“I think I’m in labor!” I yelled back. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt a trickling down my legs. I realized my water broke, just like the pregnancy books had said.  _Alright, hold it together now, Beauchamp._

There was a moment of dead silence from below. Then Mum came thundering up the stairs and saw me, clinging to the doorframe. “Oh God. Oh my God. Okay. Let’s go.” I’d never seen my mother so flustered before. I almost smiled, before a small contraction made me cringe. “Please get my bag, the one I packed. It’s in the closet.” Mum hurried to get it, clutching the bag in one hand. She let me lean on her for support, like a crutch. We walked slowly down the stairs, occasional pains making me yelp. Mum winced every time I did.

She grabbed the car keys and I sat myself gingerly. The maternity dress I was wearing was immediately soaked from the back. I was getting the seat wet too, but Mum didn’t care. The pain was now like hot nails being driven through my spine. I was gasping for air, practically hyperventilating. It helped dull the ache. We made it to the Princess Royal Maternity Hospital in record time. From the car park, Mum called my dad, whom we caught driving home from the market.

“Mum?” I huffed. She turned to me, concerned. “Call Jamie, please.” He told us he would head to the hospital immediately, and that he would also tell his parents.

When we arrived to Admissions, I was about to tell the nurse, “I think I can walk,” when I doubled over as another contraction hit. I was hastily put in a wheelchair. My hair was matted, my legs still wet from my water breaking. Not pretty at all.

Mum remained in the lobby to fill out paperwork while the nurse accompanied me as I was wheeled into the labor ward. I chose to wear the hospital gown, and the nurse helped me change. She indicated the midwife would be in shortly to examine me. I climbed carefully onto the bed. The nurse set up an IV next to the bed.

Not fifteen minutes had passed when Mum was back, with Dad in tow. He had turned the car around and sped to the hospital. My father looked nervous, which only increased as I cried out whenever I felt a contraction. He stepped out of the room when the midwife and nurses came to check up on me. They took my temperature, pulse, and blood pressure. They checked the baby’s heartbeat, and felt around my belly for her position. There was a brief uncomfortable moment when the midwife checked how dilated I was.

“You’re quite advanced for your first delivery. Seems it’s going to be a quick birth. Lucky.” The midwife flashed a smile as I lowered my legs back on the bed. Her nametag read Gillian. She had a soft Scottish burr similar to Jamie’s. Mum sat on a chair next to me, holding my hand.

My father came back in, followed by a breathless Jamie. Something in me relaxed when I saw him, and I smiled. It suddenly struck me how worried he looked, anxious and pale. Almost like a first-time father. I quickly pushed that thought out of my head.

“How are ye, Sassenach?” Jamie came to stand next to the bed, hands on the rails.

“Oh, you know.” I concentrated on my breathing. I didn’t want to scare him. “Just having a baby. The pain is bloody awful, but I bet the food here is good.” He cracked a smile.

“Me mam’s outside. She didna want to crowd ye.” I noticed his Scottish accent thickening—it always did in times of stress.

“Your mum? Never. But I think maybe I’ll say hello later.” I clenched my teeth, feeling another contraction coming. He looked to me helplessly as I grabbed the bed rail but refused to cry out.

“Is it too bad?” Jamie asked apprehensively. “How far along are you?”

“Advanced, the midwife said. Hell if I know what that means. Can they give me something for the pain?”

“I’ll ask.” Jamie turned to the door. Before he left, he whispered in my mum’s ear, who ducked out and came back with a cup of crushed ice.

While he was gone, the contractions kicked up a notch—or maybe five. Mum told me to take her hand and squeeze through the pain. I feared I would break her hand. When Jamie finally returned with Gillian, I nearly wept with gratitude. She conceded that I could have a whiff of gas to ease the pain. The tank was set up beside me, and after the first deep inhale I began to feel its effects. My dad and Jamie left for the waiting room. I relaxed a bit, and asked my mum to help me walk around for a bit. I alternated between panting for breath and doses of gas. The contractions came and went like waves, closer and closer to each other. Gillian examined me again.

“Alright Claire. Ye’re fully dilated, and the baby looks about to crown any minute now.” She settled near the end of the bed, bringing with her a cart and a tray full of medical instruments. They spread blue sheets beneath me, and pushed the gown above my huge belly. I should have felt instantly embarrassed to be so exposed in front of my mother and a stranger, but I was beyond caring. I felt a strong desire to push.

Gillian noticed my expression as I tried to sit up. “Claire, I need ye to push through the contraction, and hold it, deep breaths. Don’t stop, we’ll tell ye when to relax.” The nurse propped me up with a few pillows while she and Mum hooked their hands under my kneed and spread them apart, at Gillian’s indication.

Unexpectedly, a molten wave of panic hit me.  _This is it, this is really it. Bloody fuck, what am I going to do… this is bollocks, I can’t do this!_ I shook my head vehemently, biting my lip.

“Mum, I can’t do this, there’s no way, I’m not ready!” I gripped her hand, my face twisting as I fought the urge to push and resisted.

“Of course you are, love, we’re all here with you. We’ll help you, you’re not alone, Claire.” Mum gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and touched her forehead to mine. Her words bolstered my courage, little as there was left of it.

“Claire, I need ye to push now.” Gillian’s voice was muffled behind a surgical mask.

After one last look from Mum, I gritted my teeth and pushed. I could hear them counting while I held on as long as I could. When they reached ten, I crumpled onto the bed, panting.

“Ye’re doing great, now one more time Claire.” It killed me that Gillian could sound so calm when I wanted to rip her head off. I felt Mum rub my leg sympathetically.

I spent the next few minutes bearing down, and then falling back to the pillows in exhaustion. Finally, I head the midwife say, “Here’s the head! A couple more should do it.” Mum peeked and actually squealed with excitement.

A couple more times, indeed… I pursed my lips and with a grunt, pushed hard, willing the baby to come out. When the ten seconds were up I took a deep breath and pushed again, not waiting. I finally let myself cry out with the effort and I heard a tiny, shrill wail.

“Here she is!” I collapsed, Mum’s hand pulling my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes, breathing in. I could hear my daughter crying, loud and strong. I felt the nurse set her on my stomach and my eyes flew open. I reached out to touch her while Gillian cut the cord. Her tiny mouth opened to let out her insistent cries, and I felt like crying with her. All too soon, she was taken away to be cleaned up.

“Everything’s fine,” Gillian said, still in front of me. “She’s perfectly healthy.”

“Mum…” I trailed off, exhausted.

“Shhh… I’m here. She’s beautiful, Claire.” Mum stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. “She looks like you.”

The nurse brought her back, swaddled and clean. “Here you go. Eight pounds, eight ounces. She’s a big girl! Congratulations.” She settled the baby on my chest. I held her awkwardly, afraid to drop her. She was beautiful… dark hair, my nose. Though I couldn’t see her eyes yet. They were scrunched tightly with the indignity of birth, as she wailed. But her cries quieted down gradually, as I traced her perfect features with my fingertips. Soon, she was only snuffling. I gazed at her, marveling at this perfect creature that had been inside me all along.

I felt tired, fatigue seeping into my very bones. I kissed my daughter’s forehead, before I offered her to Mum, who smiled in delight. I was so tired…

As my mother handed the baby back to the nurse, I felt my eyes begin to drift closed. Before I could go under, Mum shook my shoulder lightly.

“Claire, love, they need to know her name. Do you have it yet?”

My daughter’s name was suddenly clear.

“Faith. Her name is Faith.”


	20. Chapter 20

Light filtered through my eyelids, everything stained red. I had lost all sense of time and place. My eyes fluttered open slowly, as I reached up to rub sleep out of them. Something tugged on my arm—an IV. In a flash, I remembered everything like a dream.

I sat up slowly in bed, wincing at the soreness of my nether regions. There were flowers and balloons everywhere. Sitting where I almost overlooked her, reading a book, was my mother. Noticing I was awake, she put the book facedown on the vinyl sofa and hurried to me.

“Claire, love, how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. Sleepy, but fine. Where is she?” My daughter. I savored that to myself.

“Let me call a nurse to bring her to you. You were asleep for awhile.”

“How long was I out?”

“Well, Faith was born at about six this afternoon… it’s now two in the morning,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He went home to get some sleep. At around eleven when it was clear you weren’t waking up anytime soon, he left. Dad brought me a change of clothes, but I couldn’t’ fall asleep on the sofa. Too plastic.”

“Has everyone seen her?” I was impatient for the nurse to arrive.

“Yes, and they all absolutely adore her. Your dad cried, of course.” She smiled.

“No!”

“He did. I was pretty choked up myself.” A knock interrupted us and Mum called, “Come in!”

The nurse appeared, holding a white bundle in her arms. “Here she is!” She approached the bed, and leaning in carefully handed her to me. Without the gas-induced stupor, I was truly able to appreciate my daughter. Faith.

She really was beautiful. I knew all mothers thought that about their children, but she was just perfect. She was coming awake; her tiny fists flailing, trying to break free of the swaddle. She opened her eyes briefly, just enough for me to see they were a light brown, similar to mine. Her hair was dark, almost black. But her nose was still mine; she had tiny seashell ears and delicate toes. I put my face to the crown of her head and inhaled. Nothing on earth could compare to that smell.

“Want to try and feed her?” The nurse looked on me kindly, while Mum touched Faith’s cheek.

“I suppose.” I loosened the top of the hospital gown and attempted to position the baby so she could feed. As she took my breast in her mouth, I felt a sharp sting. Faith had no teeth, but it still hurt a bit.

“Even if you’re not producing quite yet, this will help stimulate the flow,” the nurse explained. After about ten minutes, I tied the gown back up, but when the nurse tried to take her, she wailed.

“Oh, please don’t take her yet,” I pleaded. The nurse relented, saying she would be back in a half hour.

I was cuddling Faith, with Mum sitting next to us on the bed when another knock brought me out of my reverie.

“Yes?” I held her a little bit closer, afraid it was the nurse again even though my thirty minutes weren’t up yet.

“May I come in?” Jamie opened the door slightly, his red head peeking around it.

“Jamie! What are you doing here?” I made sure the hospital gown covered everything before I gestured to Mum to beckon him in.

Jamie came close to the bed, pulling something from behind his back. He was holding a bouquet of lavender roses.

“Oh God, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” I noticed Mum inconspicuously sitting on the sofa again. She came forward and took the roses, setting them in a pitcher of water beside my bed.

“You know? I’m going to go get a coffee. I’ll be back soon.” With that, she practically fled from the room, giving us a moment alone.

“She looks like ye.” Jamie peeked at Faith in my arms, her tiny hands waving about.

“Want to hold her?” Before he could answer, I shifter her into his arms. He had no choice but to cradle her. He looked awkward, like I’d rarely seen him before. He held her like she would break. I laughed, and he smiled. Finally, Jamie relaxed a bit, rocking her gently while she snuffled.  _“Ciamar a tha thu, mo chridhe?”_

“So… Faith. Ye finally chose one.”

“I did.”

“I like it.” Jamie gave her back to me, carefully supporting her head. He stroked her satin cheek with his finger. “Faith… little Fee.”

“I was kind of out of it, but I remembered it was the first name on the list you gave me. Thanks for your help.”

He gazed intently at me. “It was my grandmother’s name.”

“I know. Faith Anne Grant Mackenzie.”

Jamie, shy for once, bent down swiftly to kiss my cheek.

~ ~ ~

When Mum came back from her coffee break, Jamie excused himself, with a final caress for Faith, and a hug for me. The nurse took the baby back, promising to bring her back as soon as she cried for another try at feeding.

Mum settled on the awful vinyl sofa again, and picked up her book. I stared at her, until she put it down again.

“Did you know Jamie was here this whole time?”

“Well, I hadn’t left the room since you were sleeping, but I thought he might be.”

“Why?”

“Oh, love, don’t you see it yet?”

I glanced warily at her. “Alright, I’ll play along. What don’t I see?”

“Jamie’s in love with you, sweetheart.” Mum smiled indulgently.

I sat, stunned. I felt as if I’d been hit with a blunt object squarely in the chest. Slowly, I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Mum.” I swallowed hard.

“Why is that so impossible to believe?”

“Because Jamie is my friend. He’s my best friend. Why would he want me? Now, of all things?”

“Because you’re Claire.”

“Mum, I could never…” I stammered helplessly.

“The way he looks at you, how he treats you… it’s not something you do, just for friendship’s sake.” My mother shook her own head, knowing how stubborn I could be. But this wasn’t just me being stubborn. I loved Jamie, but I couldn’t be  _in_  love with him. There was too much at stake, and now with Faith… she came first and foremost in my life.

But what if… now that Mum had planted the seed of doubt in my mind…

My heart recoiled at the very thought of the pain of losing Jamie.


	21. Chapter 21

**Jamie**

When I finally made it home around four, it was to find my mother waiting for me in the kitchen.

“How’s Claire?” She put down her mobile and set it aside. She patted the chair next to her.

“She finally woke up. I was sleeping on and off in the waiting room when I saw one of the nurses go in her room with the baby. Faith.” I sat wearily. “Like yer mother’s name.”

“Faith.” Mam’s eyes softened. “She just picked it, out of the blue? Does she ken?”

“It was on a list I gave her. I never thought she’d pick any of them.”

“And how is the bairn?”

“Adorable. She has dark hair, like Claire. I hope she has her eyes, too.” I recalled the weight of Faith in my arms, her warmth, the wee snorting sounds she made. I saw Claire in my mind’s eye as well, tired and disheveled and unutterably joyous. I put my hands over my eyes. They prickled strangely, like I wanted to cry for no reason.

Or perhaps I did know the reason. Why my heart felt so heavy. Everything had seemed so easy before. Myself, taking care of her. And Claire, letting me. Months had gone by in a blur without really stopping to think about what was coming next. I had had the feeling this might go on forever—me, loving her, and Claire, unaware.

“What will ye do now?” My mother touched my arm gently. I pulled my hands away from my face and stared at her.

“About what?”

“Claire… and Faith.” She smiled at the name.

“What is there to do?” I asked, defeated.

“Oh, come on, Jamie. Ye’re in love with her. It’s high time ye let her know it.”

I sat up straight, and leaned onto the kitchen table. “I think a complication of this kind is the last thing she needs, especially now.”

“It might be just what she needs, especially now.” Mam reached over to rub my back.

“After what Frank did—” I practically spat his name out, “—he left her, abandoned them. I canna even begin to imagine what she really went through, how much she kept to herself. All I want is for her to never be hurt again.” I turned to Mam, and her gaze was level. “I wish for Claire to be happy. Even if it isna wi’ me.”

“I agree. Ye should be careful with her heart. A person can break, but Claire is strong.” My mother rose from the chair and went for the light switch. “You’ve helped her heal. Ye dinna think everyone can see the difference in her?”

I got up after her and followed her to the staircase. “I dinna ken. I can deal with her not loving me like I love her, but if it ruined our friendship…” I trailed off morosely.

“Oh,  _a bhalaich_ ,” she said, putting an arm around me, “nothing could ever do that.”

But it could. I mulled it over as I got into bed. I would be back at school soon, distracted, busy. I didn’t know—didn’t want to know—what it would be like to lose her. Again.

I feared she would never know.


	22. Chapter 22

I had the sweetest baby in the world. Every mother thinks that about their child, but it was completely true in Faith’s case. She was a lovely baby, who hardly ever cried. Everything was blissful around her; she lit up a room.

Dad was fiercely possessive of his granddaughter; as soon as he walked through the door every evening he would seek her out and practically wrestle Faith from the arms of whoever held her at the moment. He argued with Mum sometimes over whose turn it was to give her a bath when I wasn’t around. My friends visited often, and hovered over her crib, trying to make her gurgle and smile.

The months had passed quickly. I had returned to uni a couple of weeks after Faith was born. My course load wasn’t as heavy as I had thought it would be, so I still had time to spend with my daughter. I would often hold her and feed her with one arm while I read or typed on my laptop with the other. I was determined to get top marks for my first semester. Mum offered to watch Faith when I had class in the mornings, and Ellen came by some afternoons to our house. Faith was adored by all.

Jamie was also present, although he was busy with medical school he texted and visited whenever he could. The only shadow cast over these happy months was the memory of Frank. Some of him was undeniably there, in Faith’s features, the darkness of her hair. This only made me sad, not angry, when I thought of it, for which I was grateful. I was saddened by the fact that he had chosen not to stay with us, and by virtue of that choice he would miss out on one of the greatest gifts life had to offer.

* * *

 

~ ~ ~

My days were filled with Faith, school, and family. I spent my time getting to know everything about her: from the way her hair curled on her forehead (like mine!) to the exact shade of her brown eyes, and the indentations behind her chubby knees.

I stayed late on campus one day in November to work on an assignment. I was at the library and it was almost seven by the time I was done. I grabbed a quick cup of coffee and raced home to Faith. During the first month I had been at uni, I had called Mum obsessively to ask about her, until my calls were screened and I had to grudgingly accept that Faith would be perfectly fine without me for a few hours.

When I got home, everything was quiet. “Hello?” I dropped my bag by the staircase and wandered into the living room before I checked the crib upstairs. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Jamie was sitting on the sofa, his head leaning to the side, fast asleep. Faith was in his arms, also sleeping. The telly was on, the volume muted. I took one step closer, surveying the scene. An empty bottle was on the coffee table, along with a couple of burp cloths and some of Faith’s toys; her favorite blanket was on the floor. I picked it up carefully, so as not to disturb either of them.

And then I saw. Faith’s tiny fist was curled on Jamie’s chest, holding on to his shirt. As it rested there, her hand moved slightly with the steady rhythm of his breathing. I watched them both, mesmerized. An odd sense of awareness stole over me, one I had tried unconsciously to suppress.

I was in love with Jamie. It had come to this, watching my daughter cling to him, as she would to me, like she needed him. He had done more for us than anyone; he had been there when I thought I was alone. More than a friend, in every look, every word, every gesture. Jamie was  _duine uasal_ —a man of worth. He was strength, courage, and honor. Why had I been so blind…

I took the blanket and laid it over them gently. I traced a finger down Faith’s cheek, reveling in the softness of her. I glanced at Jamie, still asleep. I hesitated for a second, before I brushed my hand over his forehead, his coppery hair tickling my fingertips. He shifted suddenly, and I jumped back, nearly tripping over the low coffee table. I managed to grab the edge of the sofa and sit before he was fully awake.

“Sassenach, hey.” Jamie sat up carefully, adjusting Faith in his arms. “Yer mam had to step out to the shops, so I was left in charge of the wee lass.” I felt my face flush crimson as he gazed upon her sleeping shape. It was as though everything I was feeling, all my thoughts were etched into my skin for him to see.

It didn’t help when he stood up and came to sit next to me, cradling Faith; he kissed her forehead tenderly with a soft, “There,  _a leannan_ ,” before handing her to me. We held perfectly still in close proximity, so close I could feel the warmth from his body and his just-woke-up scent. I was afraid to look up. The silence dragged on.

“Claire?” Jamie’s voice was gentle, concerned. “Is something amiss?”

I held Faith closer to me and touched my finger to her small open palm. Her fingers closed tightly around it.

I smiled and found the courage to meet his eyes with mine. “No, nothing. I’m just home.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Jamie**

For days, Claire had been distracted. I spent as much time as I could with her and Faith, but there was something missing—something strange, between us now. A thousand thoughts raced through my head about what it could be.

Everything had reached a breaking point. I thought about gradually stepping back and taking some distance. I was busier every day with medical school, and I had responsibilities on the farm. My da could not always handle things alone. Faith had begun to recognize me, cooing happily when I bent over her crib. But still, I worried that if I made myself scarce she might grow to forget me.

I had grown too attached. It would only hurt me in the end. Even if a tiny part of me hoped that Claire would miss me as much as I would miss her if I stayed away for a while. It was all about hope.

I sat on my bed at Lallybroch, staring through the window in my room. It looked out towards the broch, the crazily leaning tower that gave the farm its name. The late afternoon sun cantered over the dark gray rocks. The sight lulled me, leaving my thoughts to wander. They went places I wasn’t sure they should go.

Work on the farm had been such, that Jenny and Ian were moving back to Lallybroch to help my father manage on the farm. They had offered me their flat to live in so I wouldn’t have to stay in the university housing anymore. I’d still visit Lallybroch as much as ever, but we could save some money. And perhaps I could offer Claire something more.

I had to tell her I loved her. It was the only way. A terrifying way. I tried hard to believe it was merely the fear of losing her as my best friend, and not just an overwhelming fear of rejection. As soon as I thought of Claire’s face, filled with sorrowful regret, my heart started pounding erratically; then an image of her eyes traced with pity, and my breathing became fast and shallow. I couldn’t decide which would be worse.

I ran my hands through my hair in desperation. My eyes fell on my laptop resting on my desk. Maybe…

I crossed the room and sat in front of it, opening the screen as it whirred to life. I would write Claire a letter, pouring my stupid heart out on paper, and hope for the best. I would have to type it out—I couldn’t trust my hand not to shake when I wrote.

I opened a word processing document, and held my fingers above the keys. I breathed in deeply, and began to type.

I tried to write everything as it came to my head. We were attending university together, she with nursing, I with medical school. Perhaps in time, she would take up doctoring as well. I didn’t know what plans she had made for the future, since they would know revolve around Faith and whatever she might need. With no real agenda, I told her, I just wanted her to know. That was it.

I remembered what my mother had told me, how I should be careful with Claire’s heart. I tried to stay away from what I really wanted to say—move in with me, I want to take care of you and Faith, marry me, I want everything with you… the rest was terrifying enough.

I typed faster, barely stopping for boring things like periods and grammar structure. There would be time to make it more coherent later. There was just one thing that was clear now. I could do what that arsehole Frank would not. It was his loss.

I wanted them, Claire and Faith, forever.

~ ~ ~

“Hi, Jamie.” Claire opened the front door herself and stepped back so I could come in.

“Hey.” I hesitated the tiniest fraction of a second before I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and ducked her head as the door closed behind us.

I strode into the living room, nerves making me walk fast. Claire looked at me funny, and paced after me. I stood waiting for her. I decided to play a game with myself. If she sat next to me, the answer would be yes. If she sat across from me, the answer was no.

She chose the upholstered chair beside the couch where I planted myself. Och. I smiled at her, which she returned with a little uncertainty.

“Where’s Faith?” I was surprised she wasn’t holding her.

“Mum asked if she might take her to a friend’s house. They were having afternoon tea. It was nice of her, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Claire put her hand to her cheek lightly, absentmindedly, then looked at me sharply, as though she had said something she hadn’t meant to.

“Sorry, Sassenach, where ye sleeping when I came in? Did I wake ye?” Perhaps not the best time for a heart to heart.

“No, I was trying to… no, I wasn’t sleeping.”

A strange awkward silence fell between us, made more awkward by the fact that there  _never_  used to be awkward silences. Not for Claire and me. I tried to catch her eye for a moment, but she was looking at her shoes, as though fascinated. I had to say something.

“Claire—”

“Jamie—” We interrupted each other and I laughed nervously.

“Ye go first.” I nodded towards her.

“Oh, well…” Claire toyed with her fingers.  _This is it_ , I thought.  _This is when she tells me she met someone at uni. Or maybe Frank called. No, she’d be angry, not nervous. She is nervous, right? Oh, stop it James._

“Sassenach, before ye say anything, I want to—er, sort of tell ye something.” My voice didn’t break and I didn’t choke, which was good. I reached into the back pocket of my jeans for the folded papers I had tucked in earlier.

“Sort of tell me?” Claire looked confused.

“Well, technically, I’m no really telling ye as much as writing ye. See, I…” I grasped for the right words. “I suppose it’s easier to write things down than say them outright.” I crumpled the papers slightly, looking at the bright whiteness of the paper. Anything but Claire’s eyes. If I looked into them, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I steeled myself.

“I wrote ye a letter.” I handed her the sheaf of papers, folded neatly in half.

As Claire’s fingers brushed the paper, I had one last wild thought where I could still pull my hand back, tear up the letter into tiny pieces, and pretend I never felt like this. Like I couldn’t breathe when her hand touched mine, when her whiskey eyes glanced my way, when she blushed, when we said goodbye each time.

Claire still looked slightly confused. I saw my hand let go, as she took the sheets in her own. She looked at me, trying to gauge from my expression any clues as to what the letter said. I kept my eyes steadily on her now, though my pulse was racing.

Claire unfolded the letter, and began to read.


	24. Chapter 24

I glanced at the sheaf of papers in my hand, and felt Jamie’s gaze on me. I tried to glean clues from his expression, but he gave nothing away. I was almost afraid to open the letter. What could he possibly have to say terrible enough that he had to write it, instead of telling me to my face?

Maybe it was something bad… maybe he was moving away, to London, somewhere further away. Or what if he met someone? When, I don’t know, since he’s here all the time, but still. Was the letter a polite way of telling me, “Sorry Claire, you’re on your own”? Ugh, Beauchamp, please. He owes you nothing, absolutely nothing. He’s just your mate.

If he had waited half a minute more, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten up the guts to say what I had wanted to say for days now. I had felt the words rising in me like warm air, filling my mouth, but unable to cross my lips. The moment lingered, and then it was gone. But Jamie had spoken.

I gripped the papers in my hand, then carefully unfolded them and began to read.

Claire,

Things are much easier when people write them down, that is known. And of course, that is double true for me, you know. Although it is worlds easier to do this by letter, I understand it might not be worth as much than if I said it out loud, to your face. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary. The three hardest things for anyone to say in this world are: goodbye, forgive me, and I love you.

I love you, that is nothing new, but I’ve been in love with you for a long time.

There is something that just won’t let me start, this reticence that won’t let me say what I want to because I am scared of losing you. No, not scared—terrified. Every time I play you and me inside my head, I hear this voice inside my heart that says, Could you stand to lose your best friend? And of course my head answers no. but there is another tiny, whispering voice in my heart, speaking barely loud enough to be heard above that other, reasonable voice—and it’s whispering, But wouldn’t you like to find out? Wouldn’t you like to know if you what you dream of is possible? And of course, my soul answers yes.

My heart pounded, contracting and expanding with each word. What was he saying? I looked up from the words and met his deep blue trusting gaze. Expectant. I felt my face flush bright red, but I couldn’t say anything. I kept reading.

All of the reasons why I couldn’t even consider this, the most important of all—because you’re my best friend, and couldn’t be anything more—no longer matter. There was a time when I believed it, and now I just don’t want to. I know how you’ve been hurt in the past, and believe me, it’s the last thing I would ever do. It’s not easy to trust again, to let yourself love again, but I am willing to wait for you. As long as it takes, if you can give me hope.

I thought perhaps, if I gave myself time, two things could happen: I would get over my little infatuation, realize it was only a moment of passing insanity, or this feeling would grow stronger, deeper, regardless of the situation. And part of me hoped for the first, but almost every other part is feeling the second. I realized, that amount of time does not exist. I have felt this for so long that it’s past being a simple crush or a passing whim. And so, I don’t know what to do. I am left every bit as helpless in the face of this feeling, that rises unbidden in me both familiar and unexpected.

All my fears, everything can be summed up in a word: loss. Will I be losing my best friend, or will I lose the chance to be happy? Whatever your answer might be, I know that if you value this friendship as much as I do, you would not let this come between us, that you wouldn’t let things become weird and be reduced to stupid phrases and superficial conversation. All I would want is for things to remain the same. I took this step, because it became increasingly obvious that if there were feelings on your part, however small, you might not say anything, and normally I wouldn’t have either, because I know you and I know me and what we need is certainty.

I could feel tears in my eyes, spilling over and blurring the words. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, and barely noticed when Jamie stood up and tried to peer into my downcast face. “Sassenach, are ye alright?” He reached out for me, but I held up one hand, and he froze immediately. I wasn’t done reading.

There is no happiness in the world that I don’t wish you. I will take your happiness and smile for you; I will take your sorrows and make them mine. Isn’t that what friends do? I love you, and nothing could ever change that.

Your face is my heart, Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul.

He had said it. He felt the same way I did. Technically, he’d written it, but it was there. All those times I’d tried to fool myself, when I caught him looking at me a certain way… it wasn’t too late.

The crying began in earnest now, almost spasmodic sobs of relief. Jamie looked alarmed, and I was suddenly embarrassed to be seen crying like this. I covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to explain to him that I wasn’t angry or sad, that I was actually happy.

“Sassenach, I’m sorry, I didna mean—” Jamie looked helpless as we both sat there, as I tried to wipe away the tears and sniffled.

“Jamie…”

“I’m sorry, really—look, I’ll go the now, we can talk later if ye like.”

“No, don’t go.” I dropped the papers to the floor.

“It’s just that…” Jamie ran his hands through the red mass of hair, messing it up. He looked mortified. “I didna mean to make ye uncomfortable, or confuse ye… I obviously didna mean to make ye cry.” He winced. “It was something verra selfish of me, to drop this on ye now. I’m verra sorry.”

“Yes, you’ve already said that.” I tried to smile.

“Ye dinna have to say anything now. It’s just that—I wanted to know if there might be something in ye that feels the same way I do.” Jamie’s voice trailed off, and he was staring at his shoes.

I laughed, turning a sob into a weak sigh. I stepped closer to him, but he still wouldn’t look up at me. One more step placed me in direct contact with him, and as he raised his head in surprise, I rose on tiptoes, took his face in my hands, and kissed him softly.

My eyes closed and all I could feel was Jamie, his lips gentle against mine. It was strange and familiar all at once, thrilling and right. His hands made his way into my hair, tentative at first, then fiercely, fingers winding in the curls. When we broke apart, he held me tightly to him, burying his face in my neck.

“I love ye, Claire.” His tone was fierce.

“I love you, too.” I inhaled deeply, then laughed, finally released. “How could I have been so blind?”

Jamie only laughed with me, before trailing kisses from my neck to my mouth, each more urgent than the last. I locked my hands around his neck, as he lifted me from the floor and danced me around the living room. We ended up sitting on the sofa, our fingers intertwined.

There was a sudden silence between us, before we looked at each other and smiled again.

“Alright… now what do we do?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

Jamie smiled. “I have a plan, all worked out.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s have it.”

“Well, Ian and Jenny are moving’ back to Lallybroch after Hogmanay. They gave me their apartment to look after. Ye have yer studies, and I ken yer mam looks after Faith for ye, but if ye wanted yer own space, wi’ me… or not.”

“You and me?”

“And Faith. Of course.” Jamie frowned, a worry line I’d always noticed before creasing the corner of his mouth.

“You and me and Faith.” I reached out and erased the line away with my finger.

“I assumed ye’d want yer daughter to come along. I didna presume too much, did I?” His playful crooked grin sent my heart racing.

“So we’d be living here in Glasgow together. Together, together.” I swallowed. True, I hadn’t made a lot of concrete plans following nursing school. I was trying to keep my options open, but it suddenly felt like too much, too soon.

“Listen, I just want to try—“ Jamie bit his lip nervously. “Ye were eighteen last October. We dinna have to share a room, I want ye to know that… I have no expectations… of the sort. If it doesna work out, well then, ye can always come home, no strings attached.” His voice caught a bit. “Still friends.”

“That’s a hard promise to keep. We could never really go back to what we have now as friends, once we…” I smiled faintly. “Especially not after living together.”

“It’s no gonna be perfect, I ken that.” Jamie’s voice was soft as he traced delicate patterns on the back of my hand. “But it’ll be us.” His eyes met mine with that last word, us, and held them, unafraid.

Tears threatened to spill over again, as I leaned into him and rested my forehead on his. I smiled, and my heart felt at peace, for the first time in nearly a year.

Jamie put his arms around me, embracing me tightly. I held him too, burying my face in his shoulder.

This was all I needed.


	25. Epilogue

**One year later**

I pushed the door open, hearing the ancient wood creak pleasantly in the frigid December air. Jamie and I entered the Fraser home, a cooing and fussy Faith in my arms.

“Hallo the house!” Jamie called out. Footsteps clicked out into the hall, and Mum came running to pry Faith from me.

“Hi, Mum, glad to see you, too.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“I’m so glad ye finally made it!” Ellen trailed after Mum, stopping to pinch Faith’s chubby cheeks and make her squeal in delight. Then she engulfed me in a bone-crushing hug, before turning to embrace Jamie in a similar fashion. He was practically lost in the effusiveness of her greeting before I cleared my throat.

“Do ye think we could come in before Faith catches pneumonia?” Jamie gave his mum a final squeeze before he shut the door, leaving soft white specks on our coats.

“Come in, come in!” Ellen pushed us indoors, taking our coats and talking incessantly. I could smell delectable baking from Ellen’s kitchen, mingled with the sharp scent of pine and something unmistakably  _Christmas_  in the air.

“Here, Mum, set her down a bit,” I coaxed her, and held Faith’s pudgy hands in mine for a minute before I let go. She toddled into the living room, to the delighted gasps of both our families. Dad sat on the couch with Brian, his arms gesturing towards his granddaughter. Jenny and Ian were there, with their own brood of children. Ellen hurried after us, wiping her hands on an apron.

Maggie, Jenny’s youngest, took Faith’s hand and led her to the tree. After double checking the lights and baubles were safe for her to explore, I let her be, at Jenny’s urging.

“She’s that careful, wee Maggie is. Like a mother hen,” she said fondly. At one year four months, Faith was lisping out a few words, adorable in a red velvet dress Mum had sent over as a Christmas gift. A pair of black patent leather shoes completed the outfit.

I held Jamie’s hand and took the scene in. All the people I loved were together; I hadn’t seen them in a few weeks; Jamie and I had been so busy wrapping up the semester at uni and with various holiday parties—not to mention caring for Faith.

Mum sauntered over, as Jamie was taken hostage by Ellen. “I always knew…” she smiled satisfied to herself.

I blushed. “Mum, please, it’s been a year!” I smiled back, however.

“I’m just so glad to see you happy, love. You didn’t think you deserved it.”

“Sometimes, I still wonder. But I’ve given up trying to understand it. It just  _is_ , and nothing could be better,” I added softly, watching Jamie greet everyone in the room while Faith followed him around.

Jenny was thrilled to see me, and pulled me into a corner for a lengthy conversation. “Tell me everything! How have ye been?” She held my hands in hers, clenched with emotion.

“It’s been pretty great,” I admitted, and couldn’t help but grin at her too.

It had been more than great. Despite the obvious period of adjustment, it had all gone as smoothly as we could have hoped. I kept up with my job part-time at Waterstones, Mum helped take care of Faith when I had class, and Jamie pitched in however and whenever he could. I had enough for Faith’s needs; Jamie had money of his own saved up, not to mention a trust fund from the Lallybroch estate, and I’d had a hard time convincing him that he was  _not_  allowed to pay for everything just because he could.

We had endless discussions about that. Hashing out the details about how living together would work, I remember holding Faith while she was colicky and myself taut with frayed nerves.

“Jamie, you are under no obligation—” I began.

“Of course I am, Sassenach! There is obligation in love, dinna ye ken? Not because it’s what I think I should do, but because it’s what I want to do.” Jamie came over and took a wailing Faith in his arms. “Now, go on up and get ye to bed. Ye’re tired and frazzled and it will all seem better in the morn.”

We reached a compromise in the end; we would go halves on things like groceries, but I would get everything else Faith needed, from nappies to clothes and graham crackers. The three of us moved into Jenny and Ian’s old flat in March. Not long after that, I discovered that Jamie took the money I have him for all shared expenses and deposited it into a bank account he had created for Faith. I had wanted to be furious at him but failed.

“You can come down and visit us, anytime,” I offered.

“I’ll say the same to ye. If ye wanted to leave Faith with me and Mam, give ye two some privacy,” Jenny said slyly. I saw the question she really wanted to ask and blushed before she’d uttered a word.

I glanced at Jamie, who was talking to my father, and tried not to get sidetracked into remembering his kisses, his touch… sharing Jamie’s bed was not something that had happened immediately. I had worried about it endlessly, and knew everyone assumed things when we announced we were moving in together. But it hadn’t been like that at all.

~ ~ ~

That first night, I stood in the midst of cardboard boxes, looking at Faith in her new crib. Brian and Ellen had sent it, insisting the old one stay behind for when we visited Mum and Dad. We had a bit more room in the flat than at my parents’, but there were still only two rooms. I couldn’t figure out where I’d be sleeping. I’d felt Jamie come into the tiny living room, and pause by the sofa.

I’d be lying if I’d said I hadn’t thought about it since our first trembling kiss. I had felt my face flush a deep red, while waves of hot and cold alternatively wash over me. I turned to look at Jamie, and smiled nervously. I sat on the sofa, picking at imaginary lint on my sweater. I had not been able to look up at him until he took my hands in his.

“Sassenach…” He hesitated, unsure. “I ken this is a big change. That this, um—us, is still relatively new. I just want to tell you that I’m no expecting anything. Physically. Whatever you want, whatever ye’re comfortable with, is fine wi’ me.”

I felt his eyes burn into mine and knew he meant it. I wasn’t ready for  _that_  particular aspect of our relationship either. Not yet.

So that night, and for about two months afterward, I bedded on the sofa. Jamie had argued adamantly for me to take the bedroom while he would kip on the couch, but I had refused. Besides, I told him, I needed to be close to Faith to feed her in the night. He hadn’t said anything more after that.

Until one rainy May night, when I couldn’t sleep. It was around three in the morning, and Faith had been sleeping soundly since nine. We had both stayed up, while Jamie read over his notes and I watched Netflix. He’d gone to bed before I did, giving me a soft goodnight peck on the lips before he went to his room. Feeling oddly lonely, I’d switched off the television. I checked up on Faith, who didn’t even stir. Already in my pajamas, I hit the kitchen lights and settled into the sheets draped over the sofa. I tossed and turned, but couldn’t close my eyes.

Finally I sat up, running my hands restless through my curls. I glanced at Jamie’s door, barely visible across the short hallway that separated the tiny kitchen from the bedroom. I rose from the sofa, my legs shaking slightly as I took the baby monitor with me. I padded silently to the door, and stood facing it for what felt like an eternity. I brought my hand up to knock, then faltered.  _What am I doing?_  I nearly turned around and ran back to the sofa before I caught myself. I tried to analyze and be rational about that I was feeling—then shook my head as I remembered the first time he’d said, “I love you.” My heart leapt at the thought, and gave me courage. I raised my hand and knocked softly.

“Sasenach?” Jamie’s voice was muffled through the door. He was kind of a light sleeper. I pushed the door open, the only sound now the pounding rain outside the window. Typical Glasgow weather. Jamie switched on the bedside lamp. “Are ye alright? Is it Faith?” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed before I could speak. He wore a green t-shirt and black boxers. It made me self-conscious.

“No, Jamie, she’s fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I ran my fingers lightly over the knob, uncertain. He was still looking at me in the bright lamplight. I felt like an idiot; there was no remotely cool way to do this. I tried to smile. “It’s just that… I can’t sleep.”

Jamie blinked, then nodded. “Oh. Alright. Do ye want to take something to help ye?” I shook my head.

“Do you think maybe, I could… just lie down for a while? Until I fall asleep?” I asked him shyly. I crossed my arms, cradling my elbows in the palms of my hands.

He still looked a little dazed. Wordlessly, he nodded, and made some room beside him on the queen-sized bed. Closing the door behind me, I went silently to the bed and laid the baby monitor on the nightstand. I crept towards the edge of the bed, and sat lightly on it. I looked over my shoulder at him.

“May I turn off the lamp?” Jamie reached across the bed, and I nodded. A tiny amount of light seeped in through the window, casting shadows from the rivulets of rain that trickled down the glass. I curled on my side, huddling close to the edge of the bed as I gripped the sheets and tucked them around me. I could hear him settle into the bed, shifting slightly. I shut my eyes, willing my heart to stop pounding so furiously.

All of a sudden, I felt Jamie’s hands around my waist, as he pulled me closer to the centre of the bed. “Ye’re about to fall off, Sassenach.” I felt my back tense. My heart still stuttered erratically, as an odd tremor half-fear, half-delight rippled through me; a mixture that made me both want to run from the room and stay there forever.

His hands moved away from my body quickly, as though it burned. I hesitated, before I turned to face him, biting my lip. His eyes searched mine, and he held perfectly still. I understood; Jamie wanted me to make the first move, to make sure it was what I wanted. I freed one of my hands from beneath the sheets, and slowly reached out to trace his sweet wide mouth with my fingers.

“Jamie.” He closed his eyes, and sighed, his breath warm. It sent shivers up my spine. He pulled me even closer, his lips pressed to mine before I could say anything else. I became undone. The taste of his mouth left me dizzy and breathless with exhilaration. Passion blazed inside me, blurring all boundaries and lines. I sought his lips as much as he wanted mine. I lost all sense of time and place as he kissed me. I closed my eyes when his mouth wandered to the hollow at the base of my throat, trailing upwards to graze my ear.

Jamie’s hands roved restlessly down my side; he grazed my breast and pulled his hand away. I grasped it and placed it firmly back. He laughed nervously. “Sassenach… Claire… ye ken that I havena ever… been wi’ anyone before…”

“Do you want to… do you want me?” I gasped as he kneaded my breasts gently, more confidently, and I arched into him.

“Of course I want ye, Sassenach,” he breathed. “If ye’ll have me.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll have you.” My own hands fluttered like moths down his back; I pressed my body into his, feeling just how much he wanted me. I felt a swooping sensation low in my belly, like a rollercoaster. My skin flared in response as heat raced through me, and I wanted more, more, more.  

Jamie tangled his fingers in my hair, touching his forehead to mine. “I love ye.” His voice was soft in the dark.

“I love you too.” My breath came fast and shallow. The sheer intensity of the moment made my heart beat almost painfully. He smiled and kissed me again, deeply. It was too much. I tossed my head from side to side as he traced his mouth over my collarbone, down my chest, and lifted the shirt of my pajamas to kiss my belly.

I had seen the silvery lines of stretch marks linger on my skin after Faith’s birth. I tried to cover myself up again, but Jamie wasn’t having it. “No, Claire, I want ye. All of ye. Dinna be afraid—there’s the two of us now.”

He trailed down, down, putting his mouth on the most secret part of me. My body bowed off the bed as I cried out in pleasure. Jamie left me panting; he climbed back up my body with kisses and my fists gripped the sheets. He lined up to my entrance, holding his weight on his arms. They trembled with the effort and anticipation. I cradled his face in my hands, whiskey and blue meeting, swallowing his gasp as I opened for him and he pressed inside.

As his scent pervaded the air and flooded my senses, I was barely aware that the voice whispering  _yes yes yes_  was my own.

~ ~ ~

I omitted all intensely private details of course, but Jenny saw through the whole thing in my blushes and stammering. I couldn’t hide how much I wanted Jamie.

“Everyone here is verra happy for ye both, Claire,” she gushed, hugging me tightly.

“I’ve heard,” I said dryly, still self-conscious about it all. We both left our discreet corner when Ellen called us to dinner. She and Ellen had produced a high chair for Faith, setting her between Jamie and me.

As we settled around the huge dining room table, I glimpsed a lot of smiling faces and laughing conversations. Dishes and silverware clinked musically together, as Jamie helped me feed Faith. She waved her spoon around enthusiastically, managing to drop it only a handful of times. She was the center of attention. We shared all the cute and crazy things Faith did, and how we were managing now that she insisted on walking.

After dinner, once the dishes were cleared, we made our way back to the living room. Presents were piled beneath the trimmed Christmas tree branches, and Dad was quick to pick out Faith’s wrapped gifts. Of course, she had more fun playing with the shiny paper and bows than the toys themselves. While she tangled herself up in ribbons and tape, the rest of us exchanged presents.

Brian and Ellen got me a beautiful gold locket, with space inside to put a small picture. Mum and Dad gave me a new mobile. “To fill it up with pictures of Faith that we expect forwarded to us immediately,” they said. Jenny gave me stunning new earrings for special occasions. The gifts under the tree dwindled, and soon everyone was expressing thanks and hugging each other.

While everyone was distracted, I quietly pulled out a wrapped package from Faith’s diaper bag. I held it out to Jamie, who sat next to me.

“Merry Christmas.” I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank ye, Sassenach.” He grinned and shook the box. “May I guess?”

“Open it and see.” I smiled back as he tore the paper. It was a wooden cube where I had pasted photographs: of Faith, of him holding Faith, and of the three of us. It had been hard to choose just six, but I thought I’d done a good job of it; one agonizing afternoon of arts and crafts later, here was the result.

“It’s nothing much, I made it myself,” I began.

“Claire.” He stopped me with a peck on the lips. “I love it and I love ye.”

“I also got you a bottle of your favorite whiskey,” I said slyly. “But it’s at home.”

“Aye, I found it,” Jamie added with a laugh. “Ye pick the most obvious hiding spots, Sassenach.” He bounded off the sofa and reached under the tree for one last gift. “And this one’s for ye.”

The small, square box was wrapped in gold paper. Jamie held it out and I took it, trying to guess what it was by its weight. He sat beside me, gesturing for me to get on with it and unwrap it. I picked the paper off slowly, stopping to watch Faith almost topple into the tree and get rescued by Brian. Finally, I was left holding a white box with a lid.

I glanced at Jamie, who only shrugged. I lifted the lid and inside the box was a dark blue velvet jewelry case. The shape was small and squat. My heart almost stopped. I could only stare at the box before Jamie sighed and reached over to pluck it out of the white box and put it in the palm of my hand. It was only then that I noticed the silence around us.

I looked up to see everyone staring at Jamie and me, their eyes riveted on the jewelry box. Ian managed to stammer, “Is that what I think it is?” before Jenny elbowed him in the ribs.

My own eyes widened as I looked at Jamie, blushing. It was so quiet you could almost hear the lights humming on the tree. Even Faith stood still next to Brian, expectant. Jamie’s blue eyes were filled with laughter, eager, pleading, knowing. I glanced down at the box, scared, but slowly opened it.

Nestled in the dark blue velvet lay a sparkling diamond ring. It shimmered delicately in the glow of the lights, reflecting off each perfect facet. I didn’t know what to do. The whole room seemed to have caught its breath, waiting. Jamie reached over and gently took the ring in his fingers.

I couldn’t move; he grasped my left hand where it lay inert on the sofa and held the ring, poised at my fingertip.

Faith giggled, and that broke the spell. I blinked slowly, realizing both our families were watching, waiting for an answer.

“Claire?” Jamie’s eyes smoldered with intention, entrancing. “I’ve loved you since I met ye. This past year has been more than I could ever have dreamt of. I want ye, ye and Faith, forever. Will ye marry me?”

I looked into his eyes, those deep azure eyes that knew me through and through, and still, inexplicably, loved and wanted me. And I knew once more, with utter certainty, that we were meant to be.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, James Fraser,” I said softly.

He smiled as he slid the ring onto my finger. I glanced briefly at the way it fit, perfectly. Like us. I locked my arms around his neck and kissed him. Our whole family burst into congratulations. It didn’t matter that they were all watching; I wanted to get lost in Jamie for a moment, and never let go.

Someone pulled on the skirt of my dress, then clung to my leg. Faith had tottered over to us, crowing happily. Jamie lifted her, and Faith immediately tangled her chubby fingers in his red mane, pulling delightedly. He winced briefly, then nuzzled her tiny nose with his until she laughed. He placed a hand on her own dark ringlets.

“Ye are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I claim thee as my daughter before all men, from this day forever.”

Jamie nestled Faith more comfortably in the crook of his arm and sealed his promise with a soft kiss on her forehead. A thrill welled up from deep inside me; I had so much I could barely hold it. It was expressed in the small tear that escaped down my cheek, which I quickly wiped away. It was joy, pure joy. Our family surrounded us; Ellen and Mum were hugging everyone in sight, Brian and Dad clapped each other on the back, and Jenny and Ian tried to contain their children’s elation. 

I couldn’t keep my eyes off Jamie holding Faith. They were radiant, the twinkling lights behind them suffusing them with warmth.

Both beautiful both strong, and both, thank God, mine.

~

_**FIN** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was 5 months pregnant when my daughter’s biological father decided he did not want the responsibility. “Lullaby” is based on true events—my life. With some obvious key differences, of course. For example, I was 22 when i got pregnant, but in the very traditional society/culture where I live, being unmarried and pregnant is a big no-no, regardless of your age. I didn’t find my real-life Jamie until my daughter was 5, and we were married 2 years ago (she’s 12 now).  
> 
> I read a lot of comments about Claire’s relationship with Frank and how many chances she gave him to ‘do right by her’, and all I can say is—I wrote from experience. It’s easier for me to have perspective now, but back then, i couldn’t help hoping that her biological dad would want to get to know his own child. So I kept waiting for him to call, to text, to step up in some way—if not for me, for the baby. Hope is a hard thing to kill.
> 
> Now, I know with absolute certainty that we are better off without him and that he was extremely troubled and immature. I made the mistake of placing my love and trust in someone who did not deserve it—but in return, I have my daughter, my greatest challenge and blessing. I’ve always told her, “There’s biological fathers, and fathers of the heart… sometimes they’re the same person, sometimes they’re different people.” We’re lucky to have found the latter.
> 
> It was extremely cathartic to put this story into words, and I appreciate everyone who read and commented and supported “Lullaby”. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’ve always thought about the dynamics of Claire being pregnant and Frank as the father. The focus is usually on Frank raising another man’s child. What if the tables were turned?
> 
> This story has been written for awhile–years, in fact. It’s all written out, so I can post every Saturday, while “The Midwife: Arc II” is in the works. Takers?


End file.
